


Intervals

by GoldFrostbite13



Category: Among Us (Video Game)
Genre: Deception, Flashbacks, Inspired by Black Mirror, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Original Character(s), Science Fiction, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Suspicions, Two Impostors (Among Us), lgbtq character(s), warning: graphic depictions of gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:41:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28928952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldFrostbite13/pseuds/GoldFrostbite13
Summary: It’s been nearly five months aboard the HMV Skeld. Livia (blue) and her boyfriend, Blaine (yellow), prepare themselves for another murder. But when Kieran (black) falls under suspicion, and Livia is assigned to interrogate him, she realizes that pressing on with this deadly space mission isn’t the only hard decision she has to make.
Relationships: Black/Blue (Among Us), Blue & Pink (Among Us), Blue/Yellow (Among Us), Cyan/Orange (Among Us), Purple/White (Among Us)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	1. Moonchildren

_Red light washes over our faces, turning every shade of skin the same color, our eyes widening in identical fear._

_We’ve been invaded._

_They’ve been here since we took off._

_There is no hope for anyone now. I look around at my coworkers’ faces, but there is no recognition. In unison, they turn towards me, saliva dripping from their emerging, toothed jaws. Slimy tentacles reach for me, craving human flesh. I scream, scrambling for the airlock. Death from suffocation is better than what waits for me in this giant mousetrap._

_They won’t let me escape._

_I’m going to be eaten, I realize, and childish fear overcomes me. I sob, begging for mercy, cowering against the wall. But how can I reason with monsters?_

There is no comfort in darkness, but into it the woman tumbles, limbs flailing, straightjacketed by damp sheets. She makes a strangled noise somewhere between a whimper and a yell for help, struggling out of the pathetic cocoon she’s made for herself. Finally, she finds purchase on the cold steel of the floor, scrabbling to a sitting position.

All the noise she’d made is responded with hurried footsteps. Someone takes her wrists, gently, but she hardly registers it. Still half-soaked in the nightmare, she doesn’t recognize the touch, and overtaken by terror, she kicks blindly. Her foot makes contact with something fleshy, and the other figure groans, immediately letting go.

“ _Ow…_ Hades, Liv. I was just trying to… _ow_ , help.”

“I’m sorry!” Livia fumbles for the light switch, and it comes on, illuminating the tiny sleeping cabin. Her boyfriend, Blaine, dressed in his favorite maroon sweater, lays on the ground in a fetal position, hands hovering near his crotch area.

“Nice aim,” He manages, smiling through his wince.

“I’m sorry,” She says again, kneeling by him. She leans over, kissing the top of his blonde curls.

“‘S fine.” Blaine’s breath steadies after a few moments, and he lifts himself to slouch against her bunk. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I…” Liv lets out a sigh, running a hand through her hair. “No. Nightmares.”

His blue eyes shine with empathy. “Are they getting worse? Do you need Finn to up your dose?”

Worse, worse, worse. The tentacles and teeth felt just as terrifying as the first night they found Fawn’s dead body, brown spacesuit gaping with impossibly large bites, blood pooled around her torso. Nix, Daphne, and Silas - poor Silas - haunt Livia just as much as they did when they first died. The nightmares aren’t worse. But they certainly aren’t better. “I’m fine.”

“Okay.” Blaine reaches to rub her shoulder comfortingly, and checks the digital clock hanging over the door. It’s about four in the morning, two hours before the end of the one-month grace period. “Do you want to go back to sleep?”

It takes only a blink for the images to flood back. Livia’s heart is pierced by fear’s knife, too dull to be surprising but sharp enough to hurt. “No. I’ll start getting ready. Do some tasks.”

Blaine’s brow furrows. “You’ll be vulnerable.”

“Sakura’s usually up by now,” Liv tells him. “I’ll go with them, and if I don’t find them, I’ll be at the discussion table at six. If both of us aren’t there, then…”

She doesn’t need to finish. _Then I’m already dead._

Perhaps that would be best. Livia hasn’t been much use in figuring out the impostors. She’s their electrics expert, not a detective. Silas used to be the best strategist - he proved Nix’s and Daphne’s innocence early on, and though he may have sealed their fates in doing so, he had proved his mettle and heart. And if Liv had been in his place that day…

Tears sting her eyes. She blinks them away, lest Blaine see. In any case, she’s quite sure Sakura is not an impostor. If they were, the crew would certainly all be dead by now.

“I’ll see you at the meeting, then.” Blaine’s warm hand slides off her shoulder. “I’m g-going back to bed.” He stammers through a yawn, stands up, and plods off, sleepily rubbing his face.

The hiss of the airlock and Liv’s clunking footsteps are the only noises that break the morning silence. She’s learned to dress quickly, royal blue suit, oxygen tank and astronaut helmet taking less than five minutes to don. As Liv walks along the steel-paneled hallways and enormous bay windows, she does some arithmetic under her breath. Today is May first. The _HMV Skeld_ has been in space for twenty-two weeks and five days.

Liv makes her way to admin, scans her ID card, and pauses at the roster of the crew members. Their pictures and stats cast a multicolored glow on Liv’s face.

**_Poppy. Red. Alive._ **

**_Amber. Orange. Alive._ **

**_Fawn. Brown. Passed._ **

**_Blaine. Yellow. Alive._ **

**_Daphne. Green. Passed._ **

**_Silas. Lime. Passed._ **

**_Marilee. Cyan. Alive._ **

**_Livia. Blue. Alive._ **

**_Phoenix. Purple. Passed._ **

**_Sakura. Pink. Alive._ **

**_Finn. White. Alive._ **

**_Kieran. Black. Alive._ **

Every single one of the dozen faces, smiling or professionally neutral, is blissfully unaware of what was to happen to them. Livia, five months later, can barely remember why they were brought here in the first place - something about a game, or a competition. But she’s sure she would not have signed up for this death trap willingly. Never in a million years.

Liv doesn’t need to check Sakura’s status to know that they’re either in the gym or their cabin. Or perhaps they’re dead already, though Liv knows this is impossible. She glances at her watch - an hour and a half before the impostor can make a kill. And they don’t, usually, not this early. She stares again at the word next to Sakura’s color.

**_Alive._**

Even if they’re dead, Liv has no way of knowing. Statuses don’t update until a report is made. She decides to check the gym before panicking.

Sakura is visible through the window, long black ponytail bouncing with every running step they take on the treadmill. Their eyebrows are slightly crinkled in concentration, mouth open with panting breaths, but when they spot Liv, they give a friendly wave and gesture for her to come in.

When Liv gets through the airlock, Sakura has gotten off the treadmill, a white towel around their damp neck and a water bottle in hand. Hairs wisp out of their ponytail, and their blue tank top is soaked with sweat.

Liv detaches her helmet and rests it on a nearby weight bench. “Took my color today, huh?”

Sakura takes the tease without flinching. “Sure did.” They stare up at Liv from the floor, chest still rising and falling heavily from their run. “Gods, you look terrible. Sleep well, I take it?”

Liv huffs frustratedly, blowing a strand of brown hair from her face. “Not tonight. You?”

“I never do.” Sakura’s face is makeup-free for exercise, and Liv can see the deep circles under their eyes. They stand, taking a few seconds to stretch out their legs. “I’m going to take a shower. I think you need one, too.”

“Want me to join you?” Liv asks without missing a beat.

“Ha, ha, you’re cute,” Sakura chuckles, the tenor of their voice as smooth as honey. “But you’re not that cute. And I could take Blaine in a fight, but I wouldn’t want to break his pretty face, now, would I?”

“Wouldn’t you?”

Sakura gives a non-committal shrug, drawing attention to their broad shoulders and muscled arms. Liv likes her body, but she’d give a lot to have Sakura’s strength. Even if all the human muscle in the world doesn’t stand a chance against an impostor, it’d be nice to be able to fight back.

The two friends shower in the otherwise empty changing room. Livia only washes her hair, bending towards the streams of hot water, careful not to get her T-shirt and leggings wet. Sakura finishes quickly, blow-drying their long, raven-colored tresses before braiding them in a circle around the crown of their head. “Do you want me to do yours?” They offer.

“I’m okay, thanks.” Liv rubs a towel over her own hair and throws it into a couple of low pigtails, suitable for the helmet.

Liv waits patiently on the bench, watching as Sakura does their makeup. They keep it simple today, blush across their freckles and pink, glittery eyeshadow along their eyelids. Liv can’t help but admire their confidence in their femininity. She herself had long since stopped caring about her appearance. Blaine likes watching her hands fiddle around in the wires and listening to her talk instead of admiring her beauty. At least, that’s what he’s told her. Liv isn’t going to be so naïve as to believe that her boyfriend of one month likes her _that_ much.

“Fifteen minutes,” Liv announces as Sakura zips up her bright pink spacesuit. “Let’s go.”

Blaine is the only one there when the two arrive. His yellow-gloved fingers drum nervously on the surface of the meeting table, but he brightens when he spots them.

“Hey, Liv.” Blaine gently nudges their helmets together - terribly cheesy, but Liv can’t quite smother her smile. Sakura rolls their eyes none too subtly and sits on Liv’s right-hand side, putting a respectable amount of distance between themself and Blaine. “Did you get any tasks done?”

Liv shook her head. “I’ll do some after this.”

The remaining members of the crew arrive in the next few minutes.

Marilee, in cyan, and her girlfriend, Amber, in orange, don’t hold hands, but nudge shoulders as they walk to the table. Amber’s dark face is set grimly, while Marilee’s pale one holds an expression of cautious optimism. She exchanges a wave with Liv as the couple sits down.

Finn, the crew’s designated medic, comes next. One of his first-aid boxes hangs from the waist of his white spacesuit. Born albino, his skin, hair, and eyes are nearly as snowy as his getup. Sakura had once told him, with no malice intended, that he looked like a Roman god of winter. Finn had taken it heartily as a compliment.

Poppy, posture perfect and pout a pretty red, takes a seat beside Finn, folding her hands and crossing her legs as daintily as her crimson suit allows. She shakes her honey-blonde curls from her face and does not say a word to anyone, though her hazel eyes watch them all judgmentally.

The last member of the crew comes just as the ship’s clock lets out the telltale, multitoned whine of the grace period’s termination. His black spacesuit gleams like tar, and his gaze is far darker. Sat apart from everyone, the young man sets his mouth into a hard line and patiently waits for the meeting to being.

Kieran. No one has yet dared to say it aloud, but everyone knows. He is their number one suspect.

A tense silence falls over the eight astronauts. Most of them glance to the empty spot between orange and red, where a lime-clad, red-haired genius used to sit. The hollow of Silas’s death, scarcely over three weeks ago, carves itself into Liv’s chest. Guilt threatens to spill down her cheeks. She swallows it instead. Who will be their brave leader now?  
Finally, Blaine takes the initiative, standing up, the tips of his gloves resting on the table. All eyes turn to him, even Kieran’s, who looks only half-interested in what Blaine has to say.

“Well…we know why we’re here.”

“ _Atarimae_ ,” Sakura mumbles under their breath. Liv makes a mental note to ask them what it means later.

“I think we should start meetings how Silas did,” Blaine says, and at the name comes a few sharp inhales. “You know…Um, any sus?” He nods to his left. “Marilee, want to start?”

Marilee reaches inside her spacesuit pockets, fumbling for a notebook bound in cyan-colored leather. Around the table, everyone else begins to do the same. “Erm, well…we know Silas was…attacked near electrical one. And from what I remember from that day’s map…” Every few days, the structure of the ship changes. Weapons may trade places with electrical two. The biology room can shift next to the astronomy chamber. The only thing that stays constant was the twelve cabins on one side, navigation at the front, and the wide meeting room in the center. “Medbay was closest. So, Finn…” Her voice, high-pitched and tinged with an Australian accent, hesitates.

The pale boy shrugs. “That sounds fair enough. I’ll take a sus.”

“One accusation against white,” Blaine says. Liv knows she should be used to it by now, but she hates that the crew refers to people as their colors when accusing. Any hint of suspicion, and suddenly they’re not human.

Amber peruses her cramped notes, and everyone pays close attention. She’s known for being meticulous, Silas’s former partner in analysis. “I have two possibilities. Yellow and blue, you both claim you saw Silas get killed.”

Bile turns in Liv’s stomach, but she nods. “We did,” Blaine confirms.

“You could be covering for each other, especially since you didn’t see the impostor’s color,” Amber muses. “However, when I split from Marilee to do a task in astronomy, I saw black leave from electrical one. I didn’t mention this earlier, but I thought it was important in lieu of our limited observations.”

Kieran says nothing, watching himself get accused through a bored expression and long lashes.

“That’s could be pretty serious,” Blaine says, raising a pale brow at Kieran. “Do you have anything to say, black?”

“I had tasks in electrical.” Kieran’s voice, deep and slow, is equal parts comforting and ominous. “I did a few and left. I might have heard a vent, though,” He adds as an afterthought.

“That’s not a very plausible story,” Amber remarks. “You’d be dead or would’ve seen the color.”

Kieran does not reply.

Blaine clears his throat. “Uh, an accusation against yellow and blue as a pair, and black by himself. Poppy?”

“I also saw black coming from ze direction of electrical one.” Poppy’s French accent oozes disdain as she glares at Kieran.

“Two accusations against black. Kieran? Defenses, or any sus?”

Kieran closes his black leather notebook with a snap, and everyone jumps. “I…” He wets his lips, looks up, and meets Livia’s gaze. Taken aback, she quickly looks away, startled by the blush spreading across her cheeks. “I have no sus.”

“None?” Amber asks sharply.

Kieran’s dark eyes lazily roll to her. His right eyebrow, the one with a scar cutting through it, quirks in amusement. “What did I _just_ say, orange.”

“Kieran.” Blaine’s voice is nervous but diplomatic. “Please use real names when addressing people directly.”

“Fine.”

“Finn?”

“Er, well, personally, I’d like to say it’s unlikely that blue and yellow are both impostors,” Finn says. “I can clear yellow for brown’s death, at least, and tentatively green’s.”

“What about purple?” Amber cuts in. Purple, Phoenix, was Finn’s former boyfriend before he died in the second month.

“I cannot clear yellow for Nix,” Finn says quietly, soft tones of England in his elocution. “But if he did kill him, blue would likely be dead right now. Assuming they’re not both impostors.”

Amber purses her lips, but she does not argue.

“No sus, then?” Blaine asks. Finn shakes his head, though Liv watches closely, and sees his gaze dart to Kieran. “Sakura?”

“Hm…” Sakura looks at Kieran, too. The whites of the man’s eyes are displayed as he gazes absently at the ceiling, brown chin tilted upward. “I heard footsteps coming from electrical one, then screams shortly after. I can’t be sure if that was black.”

“Did the footsteps speed up?” Kieran asks. He’s still looking at the ceiling.

“After the screams? Yes.”

“That was me, then.”

“Do you _want_ to get thrown out of the hatch?” Amber asks. Marilee gently nudges her to get her to be quiet.

Kieran lets out an exasperated breath. “What do you think?”

“Moving on,” Blaine says quickly. “Livia, who do you sus?”

Liv shrugs helplessly. “You were with me the whole time. I didn’t see any other colors besides…besides lime.” Her voice breaks. Kieran’s gaze meets hers again, and she’s surprised to see that it’s gentle. Then, just as quickly, he looks away, tugging listlessly at his gloves, as if regretting the moment of superficial sympathy. Livia feels a sudden surge of anger. Does he even care whether any of them get killed or not? Did he care about Silas? “I would like to add that the accusations levied against black make sense to me.”

Kieran’s eyes snap right back up. They darken to onyx, but Livia glares right back.

Blaine clears his throat uncomfortably. “Well, without visual evidence, it doesn’t count. I, Blaine, have no sus. In summary…” He takes a moment to think, “White one, yellow and blue one, black three.”

An awkward silence follows. Three votes out of eight is not far from a majority.

“Should we do an interrogation?” Poppy ventures.

“What do you fuckers want from me?” Kieran explodes suddenly. He stands from the table, anger simmering in his eyes like boiling oil. “I was just doing my tasks. That’s all we’re supposed to do around here, isn’t it? And _you_ ,” He whirls toward Livia, who’s now very glad for the round table separating them. “That was a really shitty thing to say. You’re better than that.”

“Don’t talk to my girlfriend that way,” Blaine growls, balling his fists.

“Blaine.” Liv lays a hand on his arm. She’s mad, but not quite as incensed as Kieran, whose jaw works furiously. He opens his mouth, changes his mind, and closes it. Grabbing his notebook from the table, he stalks away, through the doorway that Livia is pretty sure leads towards weapons.

His last words ring in her ears.

_You’re better than that._

\- - -

Not many people find a mess of sparking wires a comfortable work environment. But for Livia, the tangle of electronics is a puzzle, a colorful challenge to slowly plug away at. Every time a bulb grows brighter, or a broken piece of machinery hums back to life, it makes her smile. It makes her feel like she’s valuable.

Most of the crew has tasks in electricals one and two throughout the day. Kieran and Poppy usually ignore her, but the others have a friendly hello, and Blaine a warm, encouraging squeeze on the shoulder. Today is quiet; she only sees Amber, adjusting the light levels for her telescope, and Sakura checking the room’s oxygen gauge.

After a long afternoon, Livia peels off her insulated gloves and slips on her spacesuit, helmet clicking into place. She makes her way to the other side of the ship, where the biology lab is today. After Daphne died, Silas had taken over her job, tending to the plants and helping Finn cultivate his medicinal fungi. But after Silas, Livia took it upon herself to tend to Daphne’s old position. She likes being in the half-lab, half-solarium, even if it reminds her of them.

Artificial sunlight beams from the overhanging solar lamp, attached with sturdy chains to the metal part of an otherwise glass dome. Inside, a few tree saplings, groups of herbs, and vegetables grow in pots and boxes. On one wall is the hydroponic system, shelves of bright vines with their bare roots sitting in water. The opposite side holds what appears to be an enormous, labeled dresser drawer, holding various different mushrooms. The back part of the solarium is dedicated solely to aesthetic plants - patches of irises, daises, and poppies, small rosebushes, and clumps of ferns are planted in the soil-filled indent in the steel floor. 

Livia undoes her helmet and strips off her spacesuit. She glances at the whiteboard near the door, recording the bio tasks done that day. Finn has already been here to collect any medicinal plants, so she should be alone for a while. She sets to tending the vegetable garden, going without gloves to feel the warm dirt and plants on her bare skin. A few pesky weeds have set up shop near the carrots; Liv starts pulling them out and tossing them into the compost/energy converter. As she works, her mind wanders, set free by the simplicity of the task.

_Silas’s green eyes crinkle in amusement when a tiny roly-poly crawls onto my arm. I shriek in alarm, but he stops me from flicking off the bug. “It’s harmless,” He says soothingly. “Look, it’s not hurting you.”_

_The bug crawls curiously over my skin, miniature feelers waving. Its multitude of legs feel ticklish as it moves._

_“It’s cute,” I say, smiling at the roly-poly as it journeys over the hills of my knuckles._

_That’s the second to last time I ever see him. That night, I walk with Blaine, our gloved hands intertwined. We stop to gaze out one of the bay windows, watching a yellow, dusty planet pass by. Stars and celestial bodies shine steadily in all colors of the rainbow, still and cold and beautiful._

_A body smashes against the thick glass. Silas, a tentacle wrapped around his lime-green suit, stares blankly. His glasses are gone, and is some of his flesh, torn away in chunks. I scream. Blaine whirls around to see the attacker, and so do I, a moment later, but the impostor’s body is halfway around the corner. One tentacle pulls at Silas; another reaches for me. Fear paralyzes me, but Blaine grabs me by the waist, just out of reach._

_“You bastard! Who are you?” Blaine shouts as Silas’s corpse is dragged away. “Come on!” He takes me by the hand, and we sprint, following the bloodstained corridor, turn a corner, and-_

_Nothing. The impostor, and Silas, is gone._

The hiss of the airlock brings Liv out of her reverie. She expects Finn, or perhaps Sakura, coming to refill oxygen canisters.

The spacesuit is black.

Livia steps back as Kieran steps forward, expression so impassive it might as well be carved from wood. He clicks off his helmet, tucking it under his arm, but makes no move to take off his spacesuit.

_Black’s in charge of weapons and shields._ The realization clenches around Livia’s chest like a deadly boa constrictor. _Black doesn’t have tasks in here. He’s going to kill me. He’s going to-_

“What are you doing here?” Livia asks, voice trembling.

“I’m finished with my tasks. I came to look at the flowers.” Kieran puts down his helmet, next to Livia’s, by the door. He unzips his spacesuit and casually slips out of it, revealing a black turtleneck and blue jeans. Part of Liv wonders if he’s uncomfortably hot in that outfit. Another part wonders when slimy limbs will emerge.

“A likely story.” Livia wears all the sternness she can muster with dirt under her nails. “Why don’t you go help someone else with their tasks?”

“No one wants me helping.”

“So, why are you in here with me?”

“I didn’t know you were here until I came in,” Kieran says irritably. Hands in his pockets, he passes by the trees, the fungi, the vegetable boxes, and Livia. Liv turns to watch him sit by the flowers, reach for a rose, and brush its soft petals with his fingertips.

“I could be the impostor, you know.” The words come out before Livia can stop them, but they get Kieran’s attention. He looks lazily up from the rose.

“You’re not the impostor.”

His certainty is maddening. “How do you know?”

Kieran shrugs and leans back on his hands, legs crossed kindergarten-style. “I guess I’m not a hundred percent sure. If you kill me, blue, make it fast.”

_Blue._ Liv’s favorite color sounds like a muttered prayer just before death, coming from his lips. Which is no doubt intentional on his part.

“My name is Liv.”

“Liv, or Livia?” Kieran tilts his head and lowers his lashes. It bothers Livia that he has prettier eyelashes than she does. It’s not fair.

“Livia,” She corrects herself. “My friends call me Liv.”

Kieran nods, then returns his gaze to the flowers as if watching them sway in a wind she cannot feel.

It’s hard for Livia to focus with Kieran so close by, but she forces herself to continue, finishing the weeding and pulling ripe carrots and potatoes from the dirt. She’ll leave them for Finn and Poppy to prepare dinner.

Kieran approaches so quietly that Liv doesn’t notice unlike he’s right next to her, scarcely two feet away, hands resting on the vegetable box. Her heart skips a beat, but she hides her surprise, not even looking up from her work.

“Do you need help?” He asks.

“No.” She’s nearly done, anyway. Her fingers close around a potato, but it’s too small, so she leaves it alone, and paws through the patch of dirt next to it.

“Okay.”

Kieran wanders off as Livia tops off the basket she’s been filling. He looks through the cabinets and drawers in the lab part of the chamber, finding a tall beaker with a wide opening and a pair of scissors. Liv watches as he walks back over to the flower garden and begins to clip off a few blossoms and ferns.

_He likes flowers._ The knowledge warms her towards him, just a little. Livia squashes the beginnings of a smile and carries the carrots and potatoes to the sink to rinse them.

Presently, Kieran finishes gathering plants, one hand full of purple, yellow, and green. He approaches the sink, where Liv has nearly finished, and holds out the beaker. Wordlessly, Livia turns the faucet, filling the beaker about three-quarters of the way. Kieran’s sleeves are rolled up, and along his brown forearm are scars, some wider than others, all pale, horizontal lines. Liv bites back a question. Kieran hasn’t bothered her much thus far; she should at least keep from prying.

She realizes that this is the first time they’ve been alone together.

Kieran silently arranges his bouquet beside Livia as she scrubs the dirt from her hands and nails. His dark eyes are half-closed, mouth parted in concentration. Liv can’t help but admire his profile, all lips and nose and lashes.

_Stop that._ Livia quickly looks away, mentally kicking yourself. _You have a boyfriend._ And she doesn’t like Kieran. She barely _knows_ him, even after half a year of being on the same ship. All she knows is that the others suspect him They’d snub her if they know how friendly she’s being towards him.

“Who do you think are the impostors?” Livia asks.

Kieran pauses to consider the question, hands absentmindedly fiddling with the flower stems. “You know I don’t have any sus.”

“I’m asking you person-to-person,” Liv tells him. She waves a hand, gesturing to the room. “We’re alone. You can tell me.”

“How am I supposed to trust you?”

Livia hesitates. “You can’t.”

“Tell me your guesses, first, then,” Kieran says. He’s not that much taller than Liv, but much more muscular, and she’s embarrassed to admit to herself that she’s intimidated being this close to him.

“I think it could be Marilee or Amber.” Livia bites her lip as soon as she says it; she’s never admitted that suspicion before. “I mean…I know them the least.”

Kieran nods slowly. “That’s fair.”

“And I thought… that you were one, maybe.” Liv steals herself to be pinned beneath Kieran’s glare, but his reaction is much more subdued in private. He quits messing with the flowers and leans against the sink, scrutinizing her.

“Do you still think that?” Kieran’s voice is low.

“No.” Liv glances down at his hand on the edge of the sink. It doesn’t seem liable to sprout talons or tentacles. It looks human. _He_ looks human. She knows it could be a trick, but… “If you were the impostor, I would be dead by now.”

“Or…” Kieran drags out the word. “I could be gaining your trust.”

Livia’s mouth goes dry. “That’s true.” How long has she been looking into his eyes for? Dark brown, like warm soil, or black coffee. She tears her gaze away and pushes the basket against the tiles behind the sink. Poppy will pick it up later. “It’s your turn, now.”

“I agree that it might be Marilee. She certainly puts up an excellent front.” Liv’s frown must have given something away, because Kieran adds, “If it is a front, I mean. I’m also a little suspicious of Blaine.”

Liv remembers Blaine’s strong arms around her waist. She could have died without him. “No.”

Kieran raises an eyebrow. “No?”

“No. He’s innocent.”

Doubt is plain as day on his face. Livia crosses her arms. “We’ll see,” He says finally, and Liv clenches her jaw. _We’ll see._ Smug sonofabitch. She recalls what he had said just a moment ago. _“I could be gaining your trust.”_ Fat chance of that happening now.

“I’m leaving,” Liv proclaims, heading straight past him for her spacesuit. Kieran makes no move to follow her, and it occurs to her that he’s doing it out of courtesy, so they don’t have to walk out at the same time. Or perhaps her stupid brain is imagining his good intentions.

Livia stalks towards the cafeteria, still seething at Kieran’s blasé accusation. “‘I’m a little suspicious of Blaine,’” She mutters mockingly. “Bet you said that just to get a rise out of his girlfriend, didn’t you? Manipulative _asshole_ …”

As she turns a corner, Sakura comes into view, strolling and stretching their arms luxuriously. “Just finished my tasks,” They say grandly, but their face turns concerned as Liv gets closer. “You don’t look happy. What’s up?”

“Kieran,” Liv mutters darkly.

“Ah, had _that_ conversation with him, did you?” Sakura chuckles. “I talked to him after Daphne died, and he sussed…”

“Blaine,” Liv finished. “I know. It’s stupid.”

“I can _kind_ of see where he’s coming from,” Sakura says, and Livia glares at them. “Not that I agree with him, obviously. But I’ll keep an eye out.”

“An eye out for Blaine or Kieran?”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Sakura repeats. “Anyway…I don’t know about you, but I’m seriously going to die of hunger. Do you-”

A loud blaring siren cuts off the end of their sentence. Red light pulses from the bulbs near the ceiling, flashing between bright and brighter. Wide eyes meet each other in panic; that alarm can only mean one thing.

The impostor has made their move.

[Did You Know? HMV stands for Her Majesty's Vessel.]


	2. Foresight

Sakura has to yell at the top of their lungs to make themself heard.

“Don’t get separated! Come on!”

Their footsteps echo along the metal corridor. Liv’s heart races, her breath loud in her helmet. Every time the pair turns a corner, her stomach drops, waiting to see a dead body, glassy eyes, a pool of blood, a punctured oxygen canister.

The two astronauts make it to the central cafeteria, the designated meeting spot, unscathed. Only Finn and Amber are there, the former rubbing the latter’s back as she sobs, helmet clutched between her hands.

“What…?” Sakura asks, but Finn shakes his head.

“Wait until everyone gets here,” He says quietly, but close enough so they can hear him through the still-wailing siren.

Kieran and Poppy arrive at the same time, Blaine shortly after. Finn reaches over and hits the big red button in the middle of the meeting table, and the alarm stops abruptly.

“Who called it?” Blaine asks.

“Amber did.” Finn’s normally cheerful face is wide-eyed with sympathy. Amber tries to gather herself, dark cheeks damp with tears, her stoic demeanor shattered.

The absence of one member suddenly punches Liv in the stomach.

“Marilee…?” She begins, and Amber lets out a choked sob, orange-gloved hands hugging her own shoulders. She shakes her head hopelessly.

The silence hangs grimly over their heads. It’s been three days since the first of the month. A kill has never been completed this fast after grace period. The impostors usually take at least a week to plan their strategy. But a death in the late afternoon, so soon - it’s pulled the rug right from beneath their feet.

And Marilee…

Livia didn’t know the cyan-clad girl nearly as much as she would’ve liked to. Marilee was a burst of positive energy, capable of putting a smile on everyone’s face, including Amber’s, which is no small feat. The two women, along with Phoenix and Finn, had been the most adorable couple on the ship. But Nix had died in February. Now Marilee had left her partner behind, too.

Kieran’s words from a few minutes ago suddenly come back to her. _“I agree that it might be Marilee. She certainly puts up an excellent front.”_ Had that been a threat? A hint? Or an unlucky coincidence?

Liv looks at him. He’s standing, arms crossed, forehead creased with concern. The picture of what a crewmate should look like in the face of yet another tragedy. Kieran feels Livia staring at him; he looks back, shrugs, giving her a questioning glance. Liv glares at him. Then she realizes she had sussed Marilee and Amber, too.

Sakura has moved to sit by Amber, and puts their arm around her as she cries. _They’ll vouch for me for this kill,_ Livia comforts herself. _I’ll be fine if Kieran tries to sus me. And he’d better not._ She thinks about how she left him in the room, by himself, with plenty of time to encounter Marilee and take her down.

“Where was the body?” Finn asks softly, and Amber’s lip trembles. “I’m sorry, Amber. I really am. But we need to know while the memory is fresh.”

Amber sniffs, trying to pull herself together. “I saw Marilee right before she died. We - we were walking by the gym. She went off to do a refueling in the upper engine, and it was taking her longer than usual. I went to go check on her, and…and….” Amber hiccups, tears spilling anew. “She was still breathing, b-but she couldn’t s-speak. She was c-covered in bites, and…” She clears her throat. Sakura rubs her shoulder. “Marilee died a few m-moments after I got to her.”

“It’s got to be a vent kill,” Blaine murmurs, tapping his helmet thoughtfully.

“Not necessarily,” Poppy interjects. “Ze killer could ‘ave come from ze other side.”

“Oh, right.” Blaine nods in agreement.

Livia mapped out the whole ship that morning. She takes out the rough sketch in her notebook, along with a pen, and makes an x in the upper engine. The biology lab and solarium are quite a way from it, but closer to the engine than the gym. It’s perfectly feasible for Kieran to have made the kill, even without venting. 

“Where was everyone when the alarm went off?” Blaine asks the five astronauts. He glances down at Liv’s notes, noticing that she’s thinking hard.

“Ze bathroom,” Poppy says, a little embarrassed. “In my cabin.” Liv writes a P on red’s cabin, tapping the pencil against the table. It would take a vent, a short run, and another vent to make the kill, but it was possible.

“Liv and I were together for a few minutes,” Sakura says. “I can confirm she didn’t do this kill.”

“Same for Sakura,” Liv affirms.

“I was heading to bio from medbay,” Finn states. Liv marks the hallway between the two rooms with an F.

“I was in navigation,” says Blaine. “My tasks were already finished, but I was just…admiring the view. You know.” The others nod. Livia pencils a B in navigation. Blaine’s route could have made it possible to kill Marilee, but Amber would certainly have seen him on her way to fuel. 

“I was on my way out of bio,” Kieran says. Livia writes in a K next to bio, then frowns.

“Finn, did you see Kieran at all?” She asks.

“No. Not once today.”

Livia looks at Kieran, calculating. He meets her gaze, unyielding, as if issuing a challenge.

“Kieran, where were you _exactly_ when the alarm went off?”

“By the airlock in bio,” Kieran says calmly. “It surprised me, and the beaker I was holding slipped out of my gloves. I stopped to sweep up the glass into a pile; it only took me a minute. Then I came straight here.”

“What were you doing in bio?” Finn asks suspiciously.

“Ask Livia.”

Everyone’s eyes fall on her. Liv wishes she could kick Kieran under the table, but he’s too far away. “Kieran came in to get flowers while I was doing tasks. I left him alone in there, give or take…ten minutes before the alarm went off.”

“Ten minutes is plenty of time to make a kill,” Amber growls. It’s the first time she’s spoken in a while.

“Check bio for the glass, then,” Kieran challenges.

“You could ‘ave broken ze beaker earlier,” Poppy points out. Kieran purses his lips; it’s a fair point.

Amber’s eyes, the same color as her namesake, glare suspiciously at Kieran. Even he isn’t stupid enough to challenge the girlfriend of someone who was just murdered - and probably would have been eaten, had Amber not come in time. He pointedly looks away.

“It’s clear who is our number one suspect is,” Blaine says. He bites his lip, and Liv can’t help but feel a little sorry for him. She knows he hates confrontation. “Liv, I’m going to trust you to do the summary. Any objections?”

Everyone but Kieran shakes their head. Blaine’s eyes narrow at him, but Kieran doesn’t speak.

Livia clears her throat, looking over the map. “Our first sus is black.” She can feel his gaze on her, boring into her skull. “It’s impossible for yellow, pink, and myself to have made the kill, assuming yellow didn’t lie about his position. Red is a possibility, though based on the route alone, it’s highly unlikely. White could have possibly done it, though the chances of black seeing them are pretty high. They could be working together.” _They seem at odds, though,_ she tells herself, and feels her forehead creasing. Trying to find the two perfectly disguised killers in a changing, labyrinthine spaceship was proving to be a much harder task than untangling wires. “And this is all assuming that it wasn’t a self-report.”

“Self…?” Amber’s fists clench, her voice rising in pitch and volume. “Are you…? You fucking _dare_ accuse me of killing Marilee? YOU THINK I KILLED MARILEE?!”

Livia raises her hands in defense, quailing under Amber’s fury as the other woman stands, making to apprehend Liv. Sakura leaps up, placing themself between the two astronauts. Amber struggles against her better nature, and Sakura’s strength, to no avail. Sakura holds her at arms’ length, saying, “Keep it together. Liv’s not accusing anyone of anything. We’re just trying to do our jobs. Okay? Okay, Amber?”

“If I find out that you’re the impostor,” Amber snarls, bright eyes blazing, “I’ll fucking kill you. You’ll suffer like she did before you make it outside!”

“Hey!” Blaine comes to Liv’s defense once again, and though she’s grateful, she tugs at his sleeve so he’ll sit down. “There’s no need for that.”

“Blaine, it’s okay.” Livia takes a deep breath, the death threats rattling empty in her ribcage. She speaks directly to Amber next. “I know how you feel.”

_Silas hands me a daisy before I even say anything. The stem of Daphne’s favorite flower rolls between my fingers. We miss her more than either of us can say._

“No, you don’t.” Amber’s voice smolders with anguish. “You can’t possibly.”

_I ask if he thinks she’s in a better place. Silas doesn’t lie; he never lies to me. He replies no, and when tears spill down my cheeks, he takes my hand. “Maybe if Daphne believed she would, then…she did.”_

_“You think that’s possible? To believe in something so much that it becomes true?”_

_“Yes.” Silas’s mouth is close to mine. But I can read his freckled face just as well as any book. I know how he felt about Daphne. He’s starting to feel it about me, too, and he’s scared._

_I’m scared, too. Scared less of death and more of walking these steel corridors with no company to keep._

“I do. I promise you I do.” Amber’s expression is the same as Liv’s when she watched the lime-colored spacesuit ooze a path of scarlet. “We’re going to find out who did this. And as soon as we do, they’re going straight into that nothingness.”

As Livia jerks her head, indicating the vastness of space outside the _Skeld_ , she watches everyone’s faces. They’re all varying degrees of distressed, not a twitch or blink giving anything away. _Damn._ As much hatred as she feels for the impostors, Liv can’t help but be impressed by their dedication to appearing human. Finding them in time would prove more difficult than she thought.

“I want justice.” If it’s an act Amber puts on, Liv thinks it’s a very good one indeed. Her voice shakes like a dam, holding back a flood of despair and righteous anger. “I’ll do whatever I can to get it.”

“What do you think we should do?” Finn asks gently, and it takes Livia a second to realize that he’s talking to her. Like Blaine, she’s somehow taken Silas’s place as a leader, a strategist to lead them in this deadly prison of a ship .

_How can we keep track of the killer?_ Liv asks herself, and the solution comes a moment later. _By keeping track of who gets killed._ Partners. Of course. Silas mentioned this strategy before, when Fawn died, but out of eleven crewmates, not one of them was willing to risk death in order to figure out even one impostor. Now, they’re desperate. Livia doesn’t want to be anyone’s food, either. But maybe the impostors will refrain, if only to keep themselves from being targeted. _This can buy us some time._

“I have a plan,” Liv says, and her colleagues perk up hopefully. “But first, someone needs to interrogate black more thoroughly.”

Everyone exchanges reluctant glances. No one wants to be alone in a room with Kieran.

“Why don’t you do it?” Kieran himself speaks directly to Livia, resting the chin of his helmet in gloved hand. His gaze is almost teasing; it makes her blood boil. “If she dies, you’ll be down one impostor.”

“And one crewmate,” Blaine counters. “No. There has to be a better way.”

“We don’t have time for a better way,” Livia tells him firmly. “The faster we narrow down our suspects, the better. We can’t afford to give the impostor more time to plan out their actions.” _It’s alright if I die,_ Liv thinks, and she’s surprised at how calm she is at the idea. She recalls how Kieran requested a quick, painless death. Perhaps he will grant her the same mercy.

If he _is_ the impostor, that is. Livia’s instinct tells her otherwise, though the evidence is overwhelming.

“I’ll meet you in your cabin in fifteen minutes.” Kieran nods, expression nearly impassive, but Livia catches the glint of victory in those dark eyes. She figures she’ll find out soon enough what it means.

\- - -

Kieran’s room appears as an otherworldly place, utterly unlike the rest of the ship. The digital clock and the metallic base are the only aspects that discern it as a crewmate cabin. The magnetic bunks lay side-by-side, as he has no roommate, and the frame is covered in a thick, gray comforter and two white pillows. A green, high-backed armchair stands by a short bookshelf, occupied on top by a few pots of tiny cacti, and filled with colorful paperbacks. A small, rectangular banner, colored with blue, pink, and white strips, marks the sliding doors of the closet. Above the bed hangs an old, faded poster, its stylized letters reading _The Cure._

Livia gives this poster a curious look as she comes in and undoes her helmet. _Cure for what?_ She wonders, offhand, then turns to the room’s inhabitant.

Kieran sits on the edge of the bed, slouching, perfectly at ease. It doesn’t take a genius to interpret his relaxed, confident demeanor. This is his kingdom, however small and dim it may be. Here, she’s the intruder.

“What questions will you ask me?”

Livia does not answer, focusing on taking off her spacesuit and perching upon the armchair. Her hands are steady as she takes out her notebook.

“I don’t know,” She replies, not looking at him.

“No? Then what were those fifteen minutes for?”

“To say goodbye.” Liv lets the silence settle between them like sand in an hourglass. She pulls of her boots and tucks them beneath her - might as well get comfortable. She has a feeling that Kieran won’t be very cooperative.

Blaine was most reluctant to let Liv go. He knew he couldn’t stop her going, no matter how scared they both were.

Liv’s senses tingle with the fear; she watches Kieran’s every move, the way he settles on the bed, his gaze casually resting upon her. At the same time, an unbudging hunch settles in her core: Kieran is not the impostor. Part of her feels perfectly safe with him. The notion is irritational - she’s completely aware of that. But he makes no threatening moves; with each second that ticks by, Livia grows more and more sure that she will not die today. Not by his hand, whether it be from his cowardice or innocence.

“Without using vents, you could have left bio, killed Marilee, and gone to the cafeteria,” Livia thinks aloud. Kieran raises an eyebrow, clearly finding this obvious. “Finn checked bio for the broken beaker, and it was there. But would you have had the foresight to concoct an alibi, and also known exactly where Marilee was?”

“The dashboards along the ship have fuel gauges,” Kieran offers. “I could have seen them going up and known someone was in the upper engine.”

“That’s true…” Livia frowns. “Why are you helping me?”

“Because I’m not the impostor.” Kieran stands, sliding his hands in his pockets, and begins to walk around the room as if Liv isn’t there.

She fiddles with the pages of her notebook, annoyed. “That’s what the impostor would say.”

“Yes.” The agreement comes with a twitch of his lips. He’s smirking, still not looking at her. Kieran’s long fingers reach forward, sliding a book off his shelf. He turns it in his hand, looking at both sides. “Catch,” he says, and tosses the slim volume to Livia.

Her hands open to grab it from the air on reflex. The book can’t be more than three-hundred pages, its worn jacket maroon, white letters reading: _Slaughterhouse-Five_ , and below that, _Kurt V._

“Open it.”

“Why?”

Kieran feigns deafness, lightly brushing his fingers over the spines of one of his cacti. Livia makes a noise of exasperation and opens the book at random. The page is smooth and white. Liv turns to the next one, then the next, then flips to the beginning. The entire thing is blank.

“You keep empty books,” Liv states, unimpressed.

“Not on purpose. I didn’t know they were empty until recently.” Kieran reaches for another, turquoise-colored, and opens it to reveal blank space once more. “See? They’re all like this.” He tosses it onto the bed.

Livia throws _Slaughterhouse-Five_ to join the second book, its pages rustling noisily. Kieran’s diversion has burrowed beneath her skin - she wonders, against her will, about the mysteriously desolate bookshelf. “You’re trying to distract me,” She mutters.

Kieran gathers the two novels and slides them back into their places. He flops back onto his bed, hands restlessly rubbing his knees. “I lied.”

_Finally._ Fear runs cold in Livia’s stomach as her curiosity begs to be sated. “About what?” She asks eagerly.

“Well…I didn’t _lie_ to you, exactly. But I led you to believe that I didn’t suspect you.”

_“You’re not the impostor.”_ “Yeah. You did.”

“I think I simply underestimated you,” Kieran says, wetting his lips. “You’re a hell of a lot smarter than anyone gives you credit for. Including yourself.”

Livia stiffens. _“You’re brilliant, you know that?” Blaine laughs as the broken radar hums back to life, and the dots representing asteroids blink back on. “Hades, you’re the smartest person I’ve ever met.”_ “I get credit for it.”

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot about Blaine.” Kieran stands again, and Liv wonders at his high energy. He’s clearly analyzing every aspect of this conversation, like she is, but maybe he’s antsy only because he’s afraid of getting caught. “I’m beginning to think you _are_ working together.”

“You’re wrong.”

“That’s what the impostor would say,” Kieran says, and he’s truly smiling now, proud that he used Liv’s own words against her.

“I’m supposed to be the one investigating _you_ ,” Livia proclaims, getting to her feet. Kieran’s eyes grow brighter at the movement, and he steps closer, folding his arms.

“Yeah, you are, aren’t you?” There’s that look again, the challenge. _Daring me to attack him? To accuse him? To let him investigate me instead?_ Well, there’s no way she’s doing that. Liv knows she’s innocent.

Until he throws a wrench into the only thing Liv is sure of.

“Sometimes I wonder…” Kieran’s voice is deathly soft, but he’s plenty close enough for Liv to hear. “Whether the impostor knows they’re the impostor.”

The flawless poker faces. Amber’s wrenched sobs, Finn’s and Blaine’s genuine concern, Poppy’s flailing confidence. Every sentence out of Kieran’s mouth feels like another wire added to the mix, and Liv can’t see where they begin or end.

“We don’t know much about these impostors, do we? They can brutally murder someone one second and show up with a bloodless suit the next. When we boarded this ship…”

That’s a blurry, long-ago memory. If Livia landed on her home planet now, the ground would be foreign beneath her feet.

“…We were all one hundred percent sure that we hadn’t been infiltrated. And yet here we are, with five dead.” Kieran’s face is close to hers, dark eyes mocking. “I wonder if you can remember where you were at…let’s say, two in the afternoon, three weeks ago. You can’t, can you?”

“I’m human,” Livia says quickly, to get a word in edgewise, voice trembling. “I’m human, with a human memory.” The truth of the statement is the frayed copper core of an old wire; it needs replacing. “Can _you_ remember where you were three weeks ago?”

“No,” he responds regretfully. “I guess my theory doesn’t help my case, does it?”

“Does the impostor know they’re the impostor?” Livia murmurs, mostly to herself, though she’s looking at Kieran when she says it. His eyes dart to her lips, as if trying to read her thoughts through them. The scent of vanilla - Hades, his cologne? - and Kieran’s incessant, velvet-brown stare makes it hard to think.

_It’s true I haven’t witnessed some of the kills. But it hasn’t been physically possible for me to make them even if I wanted to. There have been people around me, aware of where I was when the kills happened. Not every single time, but…_ Liv shakes her head. Why is she entertaining this? _What if we’re all being tricked? What if the impostor isn’t one of us at all?_ But that’s not how the game - no, the contest - no, the mission - works. _Then how_ does _it work?_ A tiny voice asks.

“I can tell how hard you’re thinking about it,” Kieran says, smirking.

“Shut up,” Liv mutters. She’s busy digging.

Livia can’t remember the circumstances of her arrival on the _HMV Skeld_. She can’t remember anything. Maybe it’ll come back to her, but now, all she knows are the tiny, black threads in Kieran’s shirt, his patient and insufferable gaze. This stranger, a colleague, a possible enemy, infuriates her beyond belief. How dare he plant these ideas in her head? How dare he make her doubt herself, beguiling her with a cozy room, colorful blossoms, and complicated questions?

Two wrong wires cross, causing smoke and sparks to erupt.

“You…” Livia breathes, and she lifts her hands, shoving his shoulders with each word. “Are. So. Full. Of. Shit.” The last word comes out as a snarl, and Kieran’s legs bump against the bed. With every touch, she feels warmth, fueling the fire of her vexation.

“I thought this was a strictly verbal interrogation, Livia?” Kieran growls, grabbing her wrist. His skin is only a few shades darker than hers, and the direct contact catches Liv off guard, making her falter. His fingers tighten.

Livia’s brain short-circuits. It’s too intimate; she loathes him.

“Let go of me,” She whispers. And he does.

Livia steps back, heart racing. Kieran looks the way she feels, slightly dazed, chest rising and falling deeply. But there’s something off about his gaze, and for a moment, red glints within the darkness of his pupil.

The sight being a figment of imagination is not an idea Liv is willing to entertain right now. Black is the impostor. It will take a miracle to convince her otherwise.

“I will personally make sure you go down,” She says, voice shaking. “If I get tossed out of the airlock, you’re coming with me, Kieran.”

Kieran nods, expression unruffled, gilded just slightly with mania. “There are worse ways to die.”

[Did You Know? _Slaughterhouse-Five_ is a scifi, anti-war novel written by Kurt Vonnegut in 1969.]


	3. Citadel

The hiss of oxygen sounds throughout the cafeteria. Sakura stands by the gauge, patiently monitoring the level as it rises. They, Amber, Livia, Blaine, and Kieran wait in the enormous chamber, anxious to take their spacesuits off and have dinner.

Soon enough, the oxygen gauge chimes, and Sakura gives them a thumbs-up. “All clear,” they say. Livia immediately takes off her helmet, then her ponytail, shaking her hair free. The sterility of pure oxygen fills her lungs, calming her down.

She cannot bear to look at Kieran. He’s present in her peripheral, shrugging off the black spacesuit from his shoulders. The remnants of their last conversation are branded onto her tongue, poisoning her with the words she said and those she wishes she did. 

_“I’m human. I’m human, with a human memory.”_

Farther from his clutches, Livia feels more certain that she spoke the truth. Why in space would the impostors not know their own identities? How else could they plan their kills, and avoid discovery with such purposeful finesse? 

The scent of salt, meat, and freshly cooked vegetables immediately distracts Livia, making her mouth water. Finn and Poppy emerge from the kitchen next to the cafeteria, carrying stacked containers of food, plates, utensils, and napkins.

“Blaine, can you get the water from the back?” Finn asks, setting the three containers on the table. Their plastic domes are clouded with steam. Liv leans over to see the contents: roasted potatoes and carrots, peas from their canned stores, and grilled chicken.

Every night, whether it was a grace period or not, the entire crew sat down for dinner. Even after Nix, their nutritionist, died, Finn and Poppy immediately took it upon themselves to continue his job.

The food is passed around with a practiced flow. Livia piles her plate high like the others do, the day’s action and distress causing their appetites to spike. Only Amber refuses food, instead watching them partake with a distanced misery. Blaine hands out water bottles and Liv takes hers with a murmur of thanks. She bites into the potato, crisp and flavored with rosemary. It tastes something like home, bringing tears to her eyes.

Home. So far in time and space that Liv can hardly remember anything about it. Does she have parents? Siblings waiting for her? Perhaps a boyfriend? She hopes not. Liv glances at Blaine, fork resting between his tan fingers as he chews. He’s done so much for her - she can’t possibly abandon him now.

“Hey.” He notices her looking at him. “Are you okay?”

The question shakes Liv more than she expected. “Not really, no,” She admits, and takes a deep breath. “I…I think I’m going to miss Marilee.” _Even though I didn’t know her that well. Even though I suspected her a few hours ago._ “Like I miss Nix.”

“And Fawn,” Blaine agrees. “I will, too.” He reaches for her hand, soft warmth emanating from blue eyes. “We’re going to be just fine. I promise you.”

Livia chuckles, if only to keep from crying. “Don’t jinx it.”

“I’ll promise to stay by your side, then.” Blaine leans, pressing a kiss to her temple. “No matter what happens,” He murmurs into her hair, and though the oath feels undeserved, Liv takes it, and holds on to it with all the strength she has.

After a few quiet minutes pass by, Sakura takes a swig of water and holds up their hand for attention. “I hate to disturb the peace, but Liv,” their eyes land on her, “I believe you had a plan for this coming month.”

Livia nods. She doesn’t bother taking out her notebook; the strategy is easy to explain. “We’re assigning partners,” She says, and each crewmate but Kieran looks taken aback. The slick fucker probably guessed already.

“There are five of us,” Amber states dully, slouched uncharacteristically on the bench.

“Not to mention,” Finn cuts in worriedly, “I thought we agreed we wouldn’t do partners. It’s too risky, being around people for that long. It slows down our tasks, not to mention…”

“I know,” Liv interrupts, a bit more sharply than she meant, and Finn presses his pale lips into a thin line. “Sorry. It’s just…Things have changed now. Having partners is the only reliable way, as long as we stay vigilant. Yes, one person will be by themselves, and they’ll have to be the most cautious. For obvious reasons.” If a pair was both impostors, they could kill the loner without detection. “Would anyone like to volunteer for that position?”

A beat of silence. No one meets Livia’s eyes, not even Kieran, who stares straight ahead. _Coward,_ She thinks. _If he’s a coward, then what are you?_ A small voice within her asks.

“I’d like to remind everyone that the odds of another impostor killing before next grace is unlikely. At least compared to what we’ve seen so far.” Two weeks of a free-for-all, then two weeks of peace. The impostors have been fiendishly cautious, taking their time, taking _turns,_ maybe. The thought of people - even false people - casually collaborating on how best to kill and feast on humans makes Liv’s stomach turn. “I can do it.”

“Wait. Wait, no,” Blaine protests, forehead crinkling. “There’s a fairer way to decide this. We should assign partners at random, and whoever’s left over is by themselves.”

Sakura immediately takes out their notebook, rips a page out, and tears it into five strips. “I’m writing our colors on these,” They say, pen scrawling pink-colored ink onto the paper. “Someone else, choose them at random.”

“I’ll do it,” Finn volunteers.

Sakura shuffles the strips of paper, face down, and slides them over to him. Finn takes two pieces and flips them over. “Oh - Amber, you and I are together.” The orange-clad woman nods listlessly. “Erm…Livia and Kieran, you’re partners.”

Her heartbeat rushes like a tsunami through Liv’s ears. She hardly notices as Finn assigns Sakura and Poppy together, designating Blaine as their loner.

Kieran’s lips move silently as she watches, forming a curse. Livia’s jaw clenches - he’s not the only one upset with their arrangement. Of course, cruel fate has forced them together. What other kind of luck can she expect?  
Liv stands, suddenly overcome with the absolute foulness of the situation. She doesn’t trust Kieran, not one bit. She’d take anyone over him.

“Are we allowed to trade?” She blurts, and the look Kieran gives her is withering.

“Scared I’ll prove that you’re the impostor?” He asks.

“You’re the one who should be scared,” Liv growls.

“That sounds like a threat to me,” Sakura cuts in. They raise an eyebrow at Liv, unafraid to call her out.

“Sakura!” Liv can’t believe they’re taking his side. “I’m not the impostor. _You_ know I’m not.”

“No, I don’t, actually.” Sakura folds their hands before them. “I want to trust you. You’re my friend. But that doesn’t change the fact that there are two aliens on board who can perfectly mimic humans. I don’t trust you, not completely. And that goes for the whole crew.” Sakura gestures to the four other astronauts. “Can anyone here say that they trust another crewmate?”

No one answers.

“Well, I trust Blaine,” Livia says bravely. “He saved my life.” She looks down at her boyfriend, whose brow is furrowed. “Blaine? You trust me, don’t you?”

He bites his lip, eyes wide with sympathy. “I…I can’t.”

A tiny crack forms in Liv’s chest. She knows it’s not personal, that she shouldn’t be offended - but it hurts like hell. “We’re supposed to be a team,” She murmurs, speaking not only to Blaine, but to the rest of the crewmates. She flops back into her seat, defeated.

Sakura rests their hand on shoulder. “I know, Liv. I wish we could be.”

“Please don’t touch me,” She whispers. Sakura hesitates, then removes their hand.

“I’m sorry,” They say, but the apology rings hollow.

Livia tells herself not to cry when she looks at Sakura, their freckled face earnest and caring. “What for?” She pushes her plate away. It takes her scarcely two minutes to zip up her spacesuit and put on her helmet. “I’ll be back in a while,” She mutters. “I need to…clear my head.”

\- - -

It’s five-thirty in the morning when Livia knocks as loudly as she can on Kieran’s door, the metallic banging echoing through the hallway. Crewmates be damned, she hopes that Kieran, at least, is not a morning person. Perhaps it’s not the best idea to antagonize her partner of two weeks on their first day, but Liv doesn’t care. She needs to let Kieran know who’s in charge.

“Stop, stop, stop.” Kieran’s voice, deep and hoarse, comes through the door, and Livia quits her knocking. “Hades, do you know what time it is?”

“Yep.”

“You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Fucking…” Kieran mumbles, words trailing off into silence.

“What was that?” Livia demands, leaning against the door.  
“Nothing. Give me five minutes.” 

Certainly more than five minutes later, the grinding and hiss of the small airlock sounds, and Liv steps back from the door, crossing her arms. Kieran appears, short hair uncombed, eyes squinting with tiredness, face slightly unshaven. Livia smiles, admittedly gloating. It’s clear she’s much more of a morning person than he is.

“Why?” He asks simply.

“I get a head start on my tasks around this time every day,” Livia informs him, and begins to stride away from the cabins, trusting he’ll follow. They have to stay together, after all. “Sakura used to be my morning task partner, but now…well. It looks like I’m stuck with you. We’ll go to electrical two; I know you need to power up weapons first.”

Kieran doesn’t say anything for a while, footsteps lagging only slightly behind hers. As they wander around the newly changed ship, he finally says, “I have learned something about you.”

“Pray tell,” Liv says scathingly, though she’s a little curious to hear his thoughts.

“You, Livia, are a sadist.”

“I…” She clucks her tongue, not even able to argue. She did practically bang his door down to force him awake. “Only for you.”

“I’m honored.” Kieran’s voice is so flat that, if they hadn’t disliked each other, Liv may not have been sure that it was sarcastic.

Livia flicks on the master switch when they pass through the airlock to electrical two, and the machinery hums to life. Countless monitors, switches, buttons, and gauges glow in all colors of the rainbow. Already, she spots a task to work on besides the usual daily checkups: the outdoor starboard headlights have malfunctioned and need a reboot. Livia takes off her helmet and undoes the top of her spacesuit, letting the sleeves fall to her legs. She walks over to the headlight control panel, throwing her long hair into a quick bun.

Nearby, Kieran taps away at a keypad, powering up the asteroid lasers. The _HMV Skeld_ moves at a slow pace, and the range of its weapons allow it to blast obstacles out of the way hours before they’re reached, so he doesn’t have to work the lasers in the middle of the night. At least, Livia assumes he doesn’t. She won’t bother to ask, not now. He’ll have to earn her friendliness.

“I’m done,” Kieran announces after a few minutes. “Can we go now?”

“I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but I’m the electrician,” Livia says irritably from the ground. Her latex-covered fingers, already slick with grease, gently unwinds a thin red wire from the master activator, deep within the console. She hasn’t found the broken end yet. “I’ll need to be in here for a couple of hours, at least.”

Kieran purses his lips, walks over, and plops right down next to Liv. She does her best to ignore him, staying focused on her task. The frayed end of the wire finally emerges, and Liv opens the toolkit built into the wall, finding a replacement. She plugs one end into the activator, the other to the headlights outlet, and… The energy indicator blinks green. Livia grins.

“Are you done?” Kieran’s voice, closer than she thought, makes Livia flinch.

“ _Gods_ , a little warning next time?” She turns to glare at him. Kieran had apparently leaned in to watch her work - their faces come a little too close. Livia automatically leans away. “I’m done with this task, but there’s still plenty left to do.”

Kieran sighs heavily, looking off into a nonexistent distance. “I should have stayed in bed,” He mutters to no one in particular.

“We’ll take turns,” Liv tells him. “Half an hour where I need to be, half an hour where you do.”

“Fine. But only twenty more minutes for you since you already did something.”

“You had tasks in here, too,” Liv points out, raising her eyebrows. “Thirty minutes, starting now.”

Kieran makes a face at her, then leans in. This time, Livia doesn’t pull away, matching his smoldering glare. “Sadist.”

Liv sniffs, pretending to be offended. She stands to refresh the main console, and he gets up as well. “Sadist is a strong word.”

“So is hate. Don’t you hate me?” The question, spoken quietly, close to her ear, comes with a waft of mint toothpaste and the same vanilla from the day before. _Like a candy store,_ Liv thinks, offhand, and realizes that she already refreshed the lights in the cafeteria twice. Flustered, she moves on to the gym.

“I don’t hate you,” She says, and even she can’t tell if she’s lying.

“Well, you should. I’m the impostor, after all. Unless you were just saying that to upset me.”

Livia peers at him over her shoulder. Kieran doesn’t look upset - quite the opposite. His expression is casually smug, as if he knows something she doesn’t. Which he undoubtedly does. This spaceship runs on oil, electric currents, and secrets.

“Do me a favor and go stand in the corner,” She says wearily. “I can’t concentrate with you puffing over my shoulder.”

Kieran’s lips twitch into an amused smile. “Puffing?” He echoes, but obliges to her request, walking to the other side of the room.

For half an hour, Livia steadily works through her tasks, reconnecting wires, fixing broken ones, downloading navigation and astronomy data for Blaine and Amber to sort through. After her shift, she and Kieran walk over to weapons, where he spends most of his time tracking asteroids through radar and blowing them up. He works slowly, methodically, brow furrowed as he locates obstacles. Throughout that morning, Livia decides she likes him best when he’s doing tasks. At least then, he’s quiet.

Around eleven o’clock, after three shifts each, Kieran declares his tasks finished. “Already?” Livia stretches, then leans against the weapons console, careful not to accidentally hit any buttons. “That can’t be fair. I’ve still got bio tasks, and who knows what issues will pop up in electrical later.”

“Are you seriously complaining to me right now?” Kieran rolls his eyes.

“Yes. I’m tired.” Liv’s stomach growls, rather loudly. Blushing, she adds, “And hungry.”

“You don’t say. Let’s go get a snack first, then I’ll help you with your bio tasks.”

“Alright. Wait, you will?” Liv says, surprised as she clicks her helmet into place.

“I have to go wherever you do, anyway. Might as well finish what we have to do as soon as possible.”

“Okay.” They both step into the airlock, and as white plumes of gas seep through the opening cracks, Liv looks up at him. “Thanks for offering.”

Kieran shrugs. “I don’t mind.”

Over the next few days, black and blue settle into a routine. Liv agrees to move their schedule an hour later, lest Kieran collapse of petty exhaustion. They take turns doing tasks in the morning, break for a snack, and move to bio, where Liv takes care of the garden, while Kieran helps or sits in the solarium, closing his eyes near the flowers and letting the artificial sunlight warm his face.

Livia, during this uneventful period, wonders if she can learn be fond of Kieran. But the nagging suspicion - no, the _knowledge_ \- of him being the impostor stops her from allowing herself to like him, even just a little. He teases her, makes up names for each flower for something to do, asks her questions about electrical tasks. Each time they interact, Liv squashes down feelings of friendship, recalling Sakura’s words.

_“I don’t trust you, not completely. And that goes for the whole crew.”_

There is no need to be friends with Kieran. Livia settles for civility and keeps their conversation as sparse as she can.

One afternoon, about halfway into the first week, the pair walks out of bio, contemplating what to do next.

“I haven’t worked out in a while,” Kieran muses. “I did it every day, before the partners thing.”

“Did you stop because of me?” Liv asks.

“Sort of. I thought it’d be strange for me to exercise while you just…sit there. You don’t work out much, right?”

Livia’s face grows hot. “What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

Kieran gives her an odd look. “It means that every time I see you in the gym, you’re just hanging out with Sakura instead of exercising. I wasn’t implying anything. Why, did you…” He pauses. “Did you think I was fat-shaming you or something?”

Liv knows her expression gives it away. She crosses her arms, suddenly conscious of her post-lunch bloating. She’s more or less comfortable in her body, but Kieran pointing it out makes her feel less.

_Blaine never makes me feel that way._

A pang of guilt runs through Livia. She hasn’t talked to Blaine since the week began, not even to call.

“I wouldn’t do that, by the way.” The softness in Kieran’s voice is just that, soft. No threatening undertones, no mocking rasp. “If anyone knows about having body image issues, it’s me.”

“You do?” Livia is skeptical; she’s seen Kieran out of the baggy spacesuit. Maybe his black clothes are slimming, but he seems plenty lithe to her.

“Yeah. I’ll tell you about it later.” Kieran’s dark eyes fall to the ground for a few moments, and Livia realizes just how vulnerable he’s willing to be with her. Though perhaps it has nothing to do with Livia herself, and just the fact that she’s the only person he’s interacted with in days. Still, she’s touched, in a peculiar way.

The gym is unsurprisingly empty, as the crewmates who exercise prefer to do so in the morning. Kieran takes off his spacesuit with a heavy sigh, rolling his shoulders. Today, he forwent his usual long sleeves for a black T-shirt and shorts. The rows of scars lining his forearms were plainly displayed, and curiosity about them flares up in Livia. She wonders if he’ll open up about those to her, too.

Kieran rolls out a mat and sits upon it to stretch, reaching to touch the toes of his sneakers. “Do you remember much of your past?” He asks.

Livia shakes her head, perching cross-legged upon a weightlifting bench.

“Me neither. But I’m pretty sure…” Kieran hesitates, opening his legs to a straddle. “I was born in the wrong body.”

Livia’s brow furrows in confusion. She can’t help but think that being “born in the wrong body” seems like an alien-esque thing to say. Or maybe she’s just being paranoid.

Kieran braces his hands against the floor as he twists his torso, stretching out his back. “I have scars all over my body, from…I don’t even know. But there are these that seem…different, I guess. Can I show you?” His hands slide beneath the hem of his shirt, and Livia realizes what he’s about to do.

Part of her decides that she would not mind seeing him shirtless. “Um…sure.”

Kieran tugs the fabric over his head. A few raised lines, paler than his skin, are crisscrossed over his torso. But on his chest, just above his abdomen, are twin scars, curved too precisely to be anything but completely deliberate.

“I think I’m trans,” Kieran says quietly, his hand absentmindedly tracing one of the scars. “These must be from surgery.”

“Oh.” Livia blinks, unsure where he’s going with this. None of the other crewmates are transgender, as far as she knows. But she doesn’t think it’s a bad thing, even in the eyes of her home planet’s society. _A home planet you barely remember._

“It bothers me that I don’t know,” Kieran sighs. His brown skin, besides the scars, is smooth and even, surrounding lean muscles that he’s obviously worked hard on. His eyes, the color of ground coffee, hold more sincere confusion than Livia has seen in them. She admits that maybe, with his lashes, strong nose, and his full lips, she could call him pretty, beautiful, or handsome, and all would be true. Did he look like someone born in a female body? Livia simply couldn’t tell. Besides…

“It doesn’t matter.” She says with a shrug, and Kieran gives her his full attention. “If you’re a man now, you always have been. It doesn’t matter if you don’t remember who you were before you came here. Hades, even _I_ don’t. I could have been a complete bitch who weighed a hundred pounds back home.”

“You’re saying you’re not a complete bitch now?” Kieran asks coyly.

Livia gasps melodramatically. “Oh, you are just _begging_ for me to throw one of these at you, huh?” She picks up a ten-pound weight, brandishing it threateningly.

Kieran laughs, _really_ laughs, not just a derisive snort or scoff of disbelief. _He has nice teeth_ is Livia’s fleeting thought, which she immediately squashes. “No, definitely not. I’m just teasing.” He wets his lips. “You’re nice, actually.”

“Nice enough to not be a suspect?” Livia asks, batting her eyelashes.

“Unfortunately, no. And me? Did my elaborate, definitely made-up identity crisis convince you?”

“Uh-uh. It was a good try though. I commend you.”

Kieran chuckles. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Now, get back to work. I’ll quit distracting you.” Liv lays down on the bench, folding her hands over her stomach and propping a leg up. The exhaustion of another day of work sinks into her eyes, sliding them closed. She falls asleep, accidentally, the sound of Kieran’s breath and footsteps fading into the dark.

\- - -

The _Skeld_ takes its sweet time one night, weaving through looming asteroids the size of moons in a particularly dangerous belt. Kieran had his hands full that day, blasting the smaller obstacles and carving out a path through the larger ones. Livia is sure that Blaine had been busy, too; he sounds tired when he picks up the call.

“Hey, Liv.”

“Hey.” It’s dark in Livia’s corner of the ship. Her room doesn’t have many decorations, but the small window near the ceiling, a painting of a blue moon’s phases, and the masses of blankets and pillows on the bed make her feel safe. It’s a miniature citadel, closed off from the outside, impenetrable to attack. Impostors lost their transformative powers within the private chambers, which were lined with some nameless metal that even Silas couldn’t figure out how to replicate, nor identify.

“So…how’s Kieran?”

“Oh, um…” Frustrating? Entertaining? Amazing? Headache-inducing? “Better than I expected,” Liv settles.

“That’s good. You’ll let me know if he’s being awful to you, right?”

“Yeah, of course.” Liv thinks that if she strains to listen, she can hear Blaine breathing. But the mics in their wall-mounted callers aren’t that sensitive. “What about you? You’re by yourself all day.”

“It’s not terrible,” Blaine says optimistically. “It’s nice to have a little quiet. I miss you, though.”

“I miss you, too.”

There! She can hear him, inhaling, exhaling…Then Liv realizes she’s listening to herself. Her face burns, and she’s glad that Kieran isn’t there, reading her mind. He’d make fun of her to no end.

“I’ve called a few other people, though. Sakura checks in on me every other day.”

An awkward silence follows. Liv clears her throat. “I’m sorry I haven’t been calling often. I’ve been busy. You know…as usual.”

“I get it, Liv.” Blaine’s voice is flat, and Livia frowns. “Sorry…that came out wrong. I mean, I get it, I understand. It’s no big deal, okay?”

“Okay.” _I’m a terrible girlfriend._

“Honestly, I’m just…” Blaine sighs, “Really, really happy to hear your voice.” That makes Liv feel better. He’s an expert at lifting her spirits.

“I’ll call you more, okay?”

“Yeah, if you can. Don’t worry about it; there’s only a week left, anyway.”

_It’s only been a week?_ Livia feels as if it’s been much longer. Her partnership with Kieran surely couldn’t have improved that fast.

“I’m going to go to sleep now,” Blaine says, yawning. “I’ll see you soon. Goodnight, Liv. Love you.”

“Goodnight.” The caller clicks silent. “Love you?” Livia repeats aloud to the dark. _Love you? Did he just…No. That’s not the same as “I love you.”_ The realization is supposed to comfort or disappoint her, but she can’t decide which. “You’ve been together for less than two months,” Liv mutters to herself. “It’s not a big deal.”

On the call, she’d been tired, but now, her mind runs a mile a minute. Did Blaine love her?

_Do I want him to love me?_

Normally, Livia would go to Sakura for advice. She considers calling them, but she wants Kieran’s opinion, too. Like it or not, the time they spent together that week brought them closer. Liv definitely doesn’t trust Kieran with her life. But she can trust him with boy problems.

She laughs to herself thinking of his reaction if she asked for his advice. _“I honestly could not care less about your love life, Livia.”_ He’d probably say something like that. But he would listen. He always does.

_“I think I have a sister back home,” I say suddenly. Kieran looks up from his bouquet arranging._

_“You do?”_

_“Yeah, I…I remembered something. I had a dream.” It was a welcome change from my nightmares. “I wasn’t in space. The planet we were on was green wherever you looked. I don’t remember the details that much, but I remember…her.”_

_“Do you know what she looked like? How old she was?”_

_“I think she was younger than me. We had the same hair, but I couldn’t see her face all that well.”_

_“What did she do?” I have Kieran’s undivided attention._

_“She was trying to talk to me. She said…” I stop, the memory suddenly saddening me, for reasons I can’t articulate. “She said to come back. Come back home.”_

_Kieran doesn’t say anything for a long time. Tears fill my eyes before I can stop them, and I turn away, embarrassed to let him see me cry._

_“What was her name?”_

_“Huh?” I wipe at my eyes._

_“Her name,” Kieran repeats gently._

_“I…I don’t know.”_

_Kieran hums thoughtfully. He plucks a rose, with blush-pink petals, from the water-filled beaker. “Rose is a good name for a little sister.” He hands the flower to me._

_I bring the blossom to my nose, breathing deeply. The sweet scent is familiar, but it doesn’t trigger anything, doesn’t remind me any more of home than cooked food does. “I wish I could miss her properly.” I sniff the rose again. “You’re being too nice to me.”_

_“I’m not going to be mean to a crying girl,” Kieran scoffs. “Do you seriously think I would?” He pauses. “Don’t answer that.”_

_“Alright.” The flower’s petals brush against my lips. “I won’t.” Then, “Thank you, Kieran.”_

Livia falls asleep thinking of him, not realizing what it means. She forgets to take her mind-calming medicine, but nightmares steer clear that night.

The _HMV Skeld_ drifts peacefully through the asteroid belt, dodging every obstacle with programmed deftness. The five crewmates slumbering inside are safe, if only for a little while.

[Did You Know? The character’s names are all derived from their colors. Some are more obvious, like Poppy, a type of red flower. Others less so, like Kieran, which means “black” in Irish and Gaelic.]


	4. Flippant

Livia has forgotten what rain sounds like. The dull drumming on the steel hull sounds at first like a small shower of comets, and she gets out of bed in a hurry, dressing quickly, before remembering what planet they’re passing over.

The thrusters, far on the other side of the ship, are fully powered, and Livia can feel their hum through her boots as she steps into the hallway. Kieran, surprisingly, is already awake, adjusting the flow from his oxygen tank.

“It’s raining,” he states, rather obviously. “What planet is this?”

“Acedia,” Liv tells him, pronouncing it _Ay-say-dee-uh_. “It was in Blaine’s memo.”

The pair slows as they pass a bay window. Acedia, the biggest planet they’ve voyaged past so far, stretches like an enormous green-gray marble below them, swathed in layers and layers of pearly gray clouds lying beneath and above the ship. The planet’s gravity, much too strong to escape, fights against the robust thrusters of the _HMV Skeld_. Livia has the feeling that she and Blaine, who took over Marilee’s job in engines, will be working a lot today.

Kieran walks closer to the glass, watching tiny raindrops streak down it. The planet’s surface stretches out for tens of thousands of miles, but it curves gently on the horizon, promising an end to its massiveness.

“Let’s go to electrical first,” Kieran decides. “You’ll need to make sure our backups are up and running.”

Liv gives him a startled look as he strides ahead. “You know we have backups?”

“I’ve seen you work every day for nearly six months, Livia.” Kieran raises an eyebrow at her. “I know how to watch and learn.”

_Fair enough._

The bulb over the main console slowly turns on and off, glowing yellow - a warning just before a real emergency. Livia wastes no time taking off her helmet, tying her hair into a quick ponytail as she leans over the console. The lower thrusters run on inadequate power; in a few hours, it could result in failure.

A few strands of brown fall from Livia’s elastic into her face as she flicks a few switches and checks monitors, dimming the lights in unused rooms so she can divert power to the thrusters. She impatiently tucks the hair behind her ears and doesn’t stop working until the main bulb glows a steady green.

“You’re really good,” Kieran remarks, leaning against the back wall. The weapons and shields monitors show that he’s already finished with his tasks in electrical.

“Well…this is my job.” Liv doesn’t look at him, turning to continue her daily checkups.

“You really can’t take a compliment, can you, blue?”

Livia doesn’t dignify this with a reply, but she remains faced away from him until she can wipe the smile off her face. Her color sounds like a real name when he says it like that.

The pair doesn’t talk much that morning, busy keeping the _Skeld_ afloat. Livia hears the footsteps of her crewmates scurrying around the ship, but she sees no one but Kieran, who volunteers to take a shorter weapons shift so Liv can focus on the thrusters. Every time they pass by the starboard bay window, Acedia looms, greenish-gray and cloudy, water drizzling incessantly upon the metal and glass.

It seems as if they’ll never leave the planet’s pull. After a couple of hours, Livia began to worry that they’re orbiting it without realizing.

“Liv!”

Blaine’s voice echoes down the hallway, filling Livia with relief. She turns, and Kieran whirls around, stepping in front of her. “What are you…” Livia trails off, realizing. The pairs are supposed to stay away from each other. If Blaine and Kieran were both impostors, then…

Blaine stops at the end of the hallway, at least a hundred feet away. Too far to kill either of them. “I wanted to let you know that we’re pulling out of the gravity field in about twenty minutes,” He shouts. “You’ll feel it; it’s noticeable. When we do, take the thrusters off electric power so they don’t send us rocketing off too fast. Watch the G-force monitor, Liv.” Blaine raises his voice even more, speaking as loudly and clearly as he can. “The second it hits 5 megapulls, turn them off. If we dip below four-point-eight, the ship will slingshot into one of Acedia’s moons.”

Livia nods quickly, processing the information as fast as she can. Blaine flashes her a wide grin. “I love you!” He calls, then runs off.

Rain buzzes gently on the metal hull of the _Skeld_. Liv’s heart limps like a comet caught in another planet’s orbit, speeding up while being pulled off its own course.

_“I love you”?_

“Twenty minutes. Let’s go now.” Kieran turns to walk away. “Livia? Are you coming?”

“He said ‘I love you.’” Liv waits for the shock to go away and for the overwhelming affection to take its place. It doesn’t happen yet. “He’s never said that to me before.”

Kieran raises his eyebrows. “Walk and talk, blue,” He advises, and her feet follow his as they stroll briskly to electrical one. “He’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, for barely a month,” Liv says. “It seems a bit…fast.”

“If I was in love with someone here, I’d tell them right away,” Kieran states matter-of-factly. “No sense in waiting around. The chances we’ll die are just too high.”

Livia laughs, and she feels a sudden surge of gratefulness for Kieran’s bluntness. “I never pegged you for a hopeless romantic, Kieran.”

He huffs. “That’s because I’m not.”

Livia heads straight for the G-force monitor when they enter electrical. The numbers are in the six-point-somethings, so she keeps a close eye on it, standing next to the auxiliary thrusters’ master switch. At 6.5 megapulls, the ship shifts, just slightly, and from the swooping sensation in her stomach, Liv realizes that Blaine must be bringing them up.

Yellow hair, blue eyes. Protective, thoughtful, loyal.

“I don’t love Blaine.”

The confession slips out before she can stop it. It makes her ashamed.

Kieran’s eyes rest on her, half-perplexed and half-bored. “So?”

“So…” Livia sighs, glancing at the monitor, reading 6.37. “I should. He’s perfect.”

Kieran snorts derisively. “Don’t be stupid. No one’s perfect.”

“Well, he’s as close as they get.”

“You know he could be the impostor, right?” Kieran scoffs, running a gloved hand over his short hair. “There’s no point in dating on this godsforsaken ship, anyway.”

His cynicism, like his joy, is contagious. “Kills the time,” Livia mumbles darkly. The gravity slowly ticks down to 5.05 megapulls. When it hits 5, Liv pushes down the master switch with a heavy clunk. The _Skeld_ shudders rather ominously, metal creaking as it comes away from Acedia’s pull.

A few tense moments of silence pass, but the spaceship glides smoothly, thrusters off, without any complication. Livia releases a held breath, relief tingling in her fingertips. Her task wasn’t that difficult, but if she messed up, they’d all be dust in a crater.

In the absence of danger, Blaine’s carefree, shouted words bring Livia back from the massiveness of space.

_If you really loved me, you wouldn’t consider that I’m an impostor._ Liv sighs, sinking down to the floor. _Can’t you trust me first?_

Kieran awkwardly taps the toe of his boot on the metal floor. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Liv brings one of her knees to her chest and rests her chin on it. “Yes,” She admits, “But I don’t think you want to.”

To her immense surprise, Kieran walks over and joins her on the floor, crossing one leg over the other. “You talk, then. I’ll listen.”

The tightness in her chest begins to dissipate as Livia lets the words flow out. “I never really thought of Blaine as more than a friend until he saved my life. I…always had a thing for Silas.”

“I guessed so,” Kieran says breezily.

Livia glares at him. “I’m talking.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

“Blaine told me he liked me, and I thought, ‘why not?’ It’s a lot easier, having someone to turn to whenever things get hard. He’s kind, and funny, and…” _A good kisser,_ she almost says, but catches herself. He kissed her for the first time as they passed by a lilac moon, hand in her hair, lips velvet soft. “I really liked him, too.”

“Liked?” Kieran echoes, and this time, Liv doesn’t reprimand him. She’d noticed it, too.

“I still do like him. But sometimes I think we’d be better off friends.” Liv fiddles with her ponytail, pulling out the elastic, and letting her hair cascade down her shoulders. “There’s no point in breaking up with him. We’re probably all going to die, soon, anyway.”

“All the more reason to,” Kieran says, and Livia looks at him. His dark eyes glimmer with a quiet ferocity, a refreshing change from his deliberate lassitude. “Life’s too short, so do what you want.”

“I don’t want to hurt him, though.”

“He’s going to get hurt either way.”

Livia frowns at him. “Is that a threat?”

“What? No, I meant…Hurt emotionally. Better to tell him sooner than later.”

“I don’t know.” Liv glances downwards, at her fidgeting hands. “I’m not sure I want to.”

“Then don’t,” Kieran says flatly. He’s looking straight ahead, expression indifferent, but his eyes betray his emotion. _What_ emotion, Livia can’t be sure of - melancholy? Relief?

“Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For listening.”

He turns to her, lips curving into a whisper of a smile. “Of course. That’s what friends are for.”

Livia tilts her head. “Are we friends?”

“Well…I’ve decided it’s too exhausting to be around an enemy all day.”

“There’s things I could be besides a friend, you know.”

Too late, Liv realizes the implications of her statement. Kieran hesitates for the briefest moment, leaning closer by such a slight increment that Livia wonders if she imagined it.

“I won’t call you an acquaintance,” Kieran says firmly. “I don’t feel things in halves.” His gaze, like burning coal, can’t be held for long.

Acedia’s rain has long since faded away, the soft, random drumming replaced by the quiet, uniform humming of machinery. The sound is comforting, a sign of stability, that everything’s working right. Kieran is close enough that she can hear him breathing, not quite as steadily, but she knows he won’t stop for a while yet. She wonders how close she needs to be to hear his heartbeat.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m sick of being in electrical,” Liv sighs, standing up, and Kieran does the same.

“Don’t you have more tasks in here?” Kieran asks, stretching.

“They can wait until tomorrow,” Livia says, waving it off with one gloved hand. “Let’s go to bio.”

She wants to retreat, to fresher air, to the asymmetry of the flowers, grasses, and mushrooms. In the solarium grows the memory of Silas, of Daphne, and the sunny present with Kieran.

\- - -

Night comes without incident. Livia eats her dinner in her room like she has been, cross-legged on the end of her bed, chewing rice and canned beans as she contemplates who to call. She dreads speaking to Blaine, lest she confess how badly she took those three words earlier. She cares for him, laughs in his company, and yet…

_What’s missing?_ Liv sets down her half-empty plate and wishes for a window to stare out of. But the only stars around are the ones in her mind, the memorized nebulas and galaxy systems that passed by during the day. 

Maybe she does love Blaine. The way she loves Sakura. _The way I love Kieran,_ Liv thinks, though the notion seems a bit too foreign to accept just yet. Kieran’s her friend now, but she can’t shake the uneasiness he planted in her like weeds in fertile soil, taking root in the basest parts of her mind. Making her doubt her own innocence whilst making her believe he’s interested in what she has to say. _How can I love someone like that?_

Livia reaches for the caller and dials pink’s cabin.

“Livia! Hey, it’s been a while. How are those beans?”

The sound of Sakura’s voice relaxes muscles Livia hadn’t even known were tense. “They’re not bad. Gods, I’ve missed you.”

“Aw, I’ve missed you too, Liv. How are you?”

“I’m okay. I’m getting along with Kieran.”

“Ooh, that’s surprising.”

“What about Poppy?”

“Mm, well…” Sakura hums thoughtfully, and Livia can almost see them, sprawled on their bed, receiver on speaker, undoing their braids. “We have our differences. But we’ve been trading style tips, and both agree it’s a shame that we were paired.”

“Why?”

“Red and pink clash terribly.”

“Oh, right. Of course.”

The pause between them lingers naturally, and Livia is willing to let it be, to sit with Sakura and talk when they feel like it until they fall asleep. But she knows why she called.

“Blaine told me he loved me.”

It’s hard to read the silence on the other end. Liv hopes it’s pure surprise, and not shock that keeps Sakura from replying.

“That’s…wow.” They sound a little breathless. “That’s…that’s great, Livia.”  
“It’s not, though,” Livia blurts. She puts the caller on speaker to let go of the receiver and buries her head in her arms. “I don’t love him back.”

“That’s okay.” Sakura’s voice, bright and affirming, lights a match in the fog of confusion and helplessness. “You’ve only been dating for, what, a month? A little more? It’s no big deal.”

“But I don’t…” Liv feels heavy, like someone has draped a lead scarf around her shoulders. “I don’t think I can _ever_ love him like that.” She closes her eyes, welcoming the night and the shame. _You’ve wasted your time. You’ve wasted_ his _time._

“Is it Kieran?”

“Kieran?” Livia repeats. Long fingers in black gloves, scarred arms, dark lashes. “What does Kieran have to do with anything?” Razor sarcasm, surprising softness, laughter the color of a solar eclipse.

Sakura’s chuckle is more knowing than Livia would like. “I dunno, you tell me.”

“Sakura,” Liv says warningly. “I’m too tired to go in circles. Why’d you bring up Kieran?”

“There’s something going on between you two.”

Liv picks at a stray thread in her sheets. “How do you know? You haven’t been around.”

“I don’t know to what _extent._ But when you finished interrogating him…oh, boy,” Sakura lets out a heavy sigh. “I knew you felt something for him. Just the way you _looked_ at each other _,_ sweet Hades, it was painfully obvious. To me, at least. Blaine apparently has no idea.”

“Kieran and I are friends,” Livia states firmly. To humor Sakura, she lets her imagination run wild for a moment. _What would I do if he kissed me?_ Arms around her waist, gentle hands cupping her face, lips… The train of thought stops abruptly. Livia makes a face. She doesn’t want any of that, the fairytale romance, the passionate affair, nor the enmity tinged with lust. Livia wants a friend or two that she can talk to. And she already has that. There’s no need for anything more.

There’s no need for Blaine’s ‘I love you’.

“I think…” Sakura brings an end to the long stretch of thoughtful silence, “You should break up with Blaine. Kieran or no Kieran.”

“ _No_ Kieran,” Livia says vehemently.

“So, you’ll do it?”

“Maybe.” Liv quits fiddling with the thread and forces her hand to relax against the mattress. “I’ll wait until grace period.”

“Okay.”

Livia flops down on her bed like a distraught, heartsick teenager - which, in retrospect, isn’t too far from the truth. “I’m sorry, Sakura. I didn’t mean for us to just talk about me.”

“Don’t worry about it, Liv- _chan_ ,” Sakura says, and Liv can hear them grinning as they use the nickname. “I don’t have any news nearly as interesting. Poppy’s not my type.”

“You like her, though, don’t you?” Liv asks. “Tell me about her.”

\- - -

The tinfoil-wrapped sandwich sails through the air almost too suddenly for Livia to catch it. But catch it she does, just barely snagging it before it hits the weapons console.

“Hades, Kieran,” Livia groans, “If I missed that, you could’ve blown us all up.”

“Hmm…” Kieran undoes his helmet and leans over Liv, checking the controls behind her head. “No, probably not. Besides, I knew you would catch it.” He looks down with an irritating half-smile.

“Yeah, you’re lucky I did,” Livia grumbles. “You should be thanking me.”

“Thanks, Livia.” Kieran offers her a box of apple juice. “I won’t throw you this, then.” He taps a few things on the controls. “Radar’s clearing up; we must be close. Eat fast so we can catch the nebulae.”

Livia unwraps her sandwich and takes a bite. Melted Muenster cheese, cut tomatoes, salt, pepper, and perfectly crisp bread. She has the fleeting urge to marry him. “Can’t we take it up to the observation deck?”

“The hell you will,” Kieran says, sliding down next to her. “That place is _pristine_. I don’t want you spilling a single drop or crumb on _my_ observation deck.”

“Says the man throwing food in weapons,” Livia replies, nudging him.

Kieran huffs in defeat. “Touché.”

After a hurried lunch, Kieran opens the hatch in weapons, leading to the observation deck on top. Liv has never been, and she lets Kieran lead the way, their boots clunking against the metal ladder as they climb. Kieran hops out first, offering Liv his hand. They’ve both taken off their gloves, and Livia’s breath catches at the feeling of his skin. Before she can think on the reaction, Kieran lets go.

“I’ve been looking forward to this nebulae system for months,” He says, grinning.

“What’s it…” Livia breaks off as she looks through the glass.

The top of the observation deck is completely transparent. Stars, some closer than others, break up the vast blackness of space in shades of purple, blue, green, pink, brown… Scarlet hydrogen, indigo oxygen, lavender krypton, and other gases float in dusty clouds among the nebulae. Like tidal waves, or sleeping beasts, they tower, unmoving, over the spaceship, and Livia realizes just how small the _Skeld,_ and its crew, really are.

“…called?” Livia finishes quietly. “ _Wow._ ”

“Wow,” Kieran echoes, and Livia spares a glance at him. A full galaxy sparkles in his dark eyes. “The Europa Complex. It’s been in the distance since we started but…we’re finally here now.”

Livia leans against the railing, taking in the vastness of outer space. Like jewels, or blooms, the nebulae emerge in all their glory, sending adrenaline and serotonin coursing through her veins. The complexity, the sheer randomness of it all is terrifying, yet beautiful. How kind fate must be, to create this starry mosaic so that she may see it someday. _So_ we _can see it._

Kieran leans against the metal railing separating them from the glass. The observation deck is hardly ten paces around, and their shoulders nearly touch. He turns, facing inwards, to gaze up at the space above them.

“I thought I’d feel small and insignificant,” he says quietly. “Most people do, in space. But things like this…” Kieran gestures expansively at the glittering universe, “Makes me think that we were put here for a reason. Who else could this all be for?”

Livia chuckles; Kieran seems to have read her mind. “That’s more optimism than I expected from you.”

Kieran shrugs, unconcerned. “I’ve been more optimistic lately. Probably because I’ve been hanging around you.” A spark of kindness glimmers in his eyes; Livia leans closer, wondering what it would take to ignite it.

Suddenly, the ship lurches with a squeal of metal, the observation deck tilting. Kieran falls towards Livia, catching himself just in time on the railing behind her. Livia’s heart races against her will as he straightens, lips just inches from hers.

_I don’t want to kiss you._ Liv chants it silently as Kieran’s eyes dip to her mouth. _I don’t want to kiss you._ She catches the faint scent of vanilla. _I don’t want to kiss you, I don’t want-_

“Oh, my gods,” Kieran breathes, but he’s looking over her shoulder. Livia turns around.

She’s seen aliens before. The malicious ones, on their own ship - the animals circling other planet’s atmospheres, the strange creatures that inhabit the stars. But never has she seen anything this big.

The alien is as wide as their ship, and three times as long. Its body, wormlike and pale pink, moves with an elegant grace. Along the body, like silk, a thin flap of skin, iridescently white, violet, pink, and teal, flutters with every movement. The creatures face is thin and graceful, flippant in its ignorance of the _HMV Skeld._

“It must have bumped into us,” says Kieran, heading for the hatch. “Come on, we’d better check for damage.”

Dazed, still, from the stars and their conversation, Livia only nods. She shakes herself into focus; she has a job to do.

The alien, as it turned out, bumped into their landing gear, knocking parts of it out of alignment. Livia isn’t too worried about it; they haven’t landed in months, and if they needed to, she’s sure Blaine could pull off some sort of half-crash landing that wouldn’t get them all killed. That is, if they weren’t already dead.

A few of the same creatures pass by that day. Liv and Kieran don’t go back to the observation deck, cautiously watching through the windows in case they get bumped into again.

It’s only when she’s alone does Livia begin to consider that she might like Kieran more than she thought.

She strips off her spacesuit and flops onto her bed, tense muscles relaxing into the mattress. She thinks of Kieran’s lips, the line of the scar in his eyebrow, his warm hand gripping hers.

“No,” Liv mutters, grabbing a pillow and bringing it to her face. She can’t drift away from Blaine into Kieran’s arms. She tries to remember what it was like being by herself, but even then…

_Daphne’s warm hands land upon my shoulders, scaring me._

_“Mother of…! Oh. It’s you.”_

_“Look at you, busy, busy, busy,” Daphne chides, leaving a hand on my shoulder as she kneels next to me. My latex gloves are smeared with grease, so I use my forearm to wipe the sweat from my forehead._

_“Yes, I_ am _busy,” I sigh. “What about you? Don’t you have tasks?”_

_“Not right now, love.” Daphne stretches like a cat, back arching, fingers flexing. “I’m taking a break. You should try it sometime.”_

_I ignore her, clipping the loose ends of wires and pulling them out to replace them. One of the electric processors needs cleaning; I take it out for airbrushing later._

_Daphne leans closer, waves of chocolate-brown hair falling over her shoulders. She smells distractingly of fresh soil and crushed oregano. “I know you like Silas,” She murmurs._

_The cutters I’m holding slip out of my grip, falling into the cavity. I curse, leaning forward, elbow-deep to grab it. “I don’t like Silas, what gave you that idea?” I laugh nervously, praying that I’m not lying without knowing. “Besides, I thought you two had a…thing.”_

_Daphne smiles, reaching to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “Yeah, we do. But if he likes you better, well…” She shrugs, nonchalant. “I’m flexible.” She winks, honey-gold eyes holding my gaze._

_I look away, flustered. “The last thing I want is to get between you two.”_

_“Don’t misunderstand, Liv,” Daphne purrs, “I’m not telling you to stay away. I mean, if Silas likes you, I totally get it. What’s not to like?”_

_I snort, yanking out a tangle of broken wires. Hades, this ship’s electrics don’t last long. “You can’t flirt with both of us at the same time.”_

_“Oh, on the contrary. I can do whatever I want.” Daphne stands, running her fingers through her long hair. I watch as she arranges it and puts on her helmet on top. No one but her can make a green, baggy spacesuit look so good._

_“Daphne, if I was gay, I’d have my eye on you,” I say honestly. “Unfortunately for you, I’m not.”_

_“I know, it’s a crying shame,” Daphne sighs dramatically. “I’ll see you later, Liv.”_

_“See you.”_

\- - -

It’s past midnight when Livia wakes up, half-dressed, the darkness of her room pressing into her eyes. Her heart begins to race, a nightmare bleeding into reality. She dreamed of Daphne, her smile, her charisma - then her death, blood smeared on the window of the solarium. The white roses were spotted with red that day.

The impostors, with their tentacles and razor-sharp teeth, haunt the edges of Livia’s room. Fear shocks her from sleepiness, and she backs up against the bed’s headboard, shoulders hitting wood. There’s something, someone else in here.

“H-hello?” Liv manages. No answer. Beneath the hum of the ship’s engine, she thinks she hears a rasp, like a blade on sandpaper.

“You’re imagining it,” She tells herself. “There’s no one there. There’s no one…”

A clank echoes through the stillness. The engine heating, the rudder turning, but Liv’s imagination conjures up far more alarming explanations. She throws up her hands on instinct, protecting her face, but nothing appears.

“If you’re going to kill me,” Livia says, voice trembling, “Do it fast.”

She realizes that she borrowed the words from Kieran and seizes onto the memory of him. She doesn’t know when the color black became safe, but she thinks of him, calculating and fierce, shielding her. Mixed with fear comes the rush of shame, for depending even on the thought of him for comfort.

Liv doesn’t need Kieran. She doesn’t need Blaine.

Another metallic clang, soft and close, echoes throughout the room. The business of daytime will bring the realization that it’s just the ship, but for now, Liv squinches her eyes tight, imagination conjuring monsters in the dark, completely forgetting Finn’s calming medicine.

She longs for comfort. She longs for home. But mostly, she wants Kieran at her door at seven in the morning, knocking so they can start the day’s tasks.

Livia falls asleep cursing herself and her surroundings, holding back tears.

[Did You Know? The design for the Europa Complex alien is loosely based off a female blanket octopus.]


	5. Voices

“Feel better?”

Livia moves her forearm from her eyes, breathing heavily. Her clothes, damp with sweat, stick uncomfortably. Her arms and hands, her most used tools, feel okay. But her core and legs ache terribly, and she knows it’ll take a few more minutes until she can stand.

“Do I _look_ like I feel better?” Livia manages.

Kieran, standing over her, tilts his head thoughtfully. “You look better,” He says, and Liv is too tired to process exactly what he means. “Are you getting up?”

“Not right now,” Liv says, covering her eyes again and waving him off. “Go away. Please.”

_I can’t believe I_ ran. Livia has nothing against exercise, but she’s perfectly content with walking and building muscle through work over time. Running in one spot, on a flat, whirring treadmill was a particular brand of awful.

“You and Sakura are the same sort of crazy,” Liv proclaims, but there’s no answer. She peeks under her arm; Kieran is already gone.

The sound of water splashing against tile echoes throughout the dressing room. Livia leans against the counter, arms supporting her weight as she looks in the mirror. It’s the first time in a while she’s worn a tank top, and she can’t help but notice how the fabric clings tightly to her skin, how her upper arms are flabby on the undersides.

“Stop that,” She mutters, and looks herself in the face. Dark circles under her eyes, brown hair limp with sweat. But she likes her eyes, dark and large, her lips, full and proportional, and her nose, whose slight flatness she’s grown to love. “You’re beautiful,” Livia whispers at herself. Sakura used to tell her that, but they’re not here, and Kieran surely won’t. Probably won’t.

Hot water falls onto her shoulders, her head. Livia massages shampoo and conditioner into her hair, closing her eyes against the stream. Nearby, Kieran turns off his own shower, shaking out a towel, and the noise makes Liv imagine him, drops running down his chest, dark lashes wet, arms flexing as he dries his hair.

_Fuck._ Livia runs her fingers through her own tresses, pressing her lips into a thin line. Fine, she can admit it; she’s _physically_ attracted to Kieran. But who wouldn’t be? Why shouldn’t she?

_Because you still have a boyfriend, and black could kill you at any time._

_But he hasn’t yet._

_Maybe he’s just waiting. Grace period is in three days, there’s plenty of time._

_But he’s nice to me._

Liv makes a noise of frustration, pouring soap into her hands. Three days. She can wait three days. She’ll break up with Blaine, hang out with Sakura, and everything will go more or less back to normal. For at least two weeks.

Normal, except…Kieran’s her friend now. She can’t just leave him by the wayside.

Livia dries herself quickly and dresses in a fresh T-shirt and jeans, her hair dampening the towel around her shoulders. She steps out into the main changing room, where Kieran is sitting on the counter, waiting.

“It’s Friday, we should do something fun,” Kieran suggests.

“We already did, didn’t we?” Liv replies, bending to look beneath one of the sinks for her brush. “I had _so_ much fun running.”

Kieran doesn’t miss her sarcasm. He smirks as he says, “Was that not fun for you? Sorry I suggested it.”

Liv shrugs, plugging in a blowdryer. “It’s good to try something new every once in a while.” She shakes out her hair and sets the dryer on high. “On Fridays, Sakura and I used to braid each other’s hair. Well…they’d do ours.”

“Do-”

Livia, half-accidentally, interrupts Kieran with the dryer, drowning him out. Kieran purses his lips, raising an eyebrow at her. Liv returns with a sheepish smile, but she doesn’t stop, her dark locks fluttering in the outflux of air as she runs her brush through them. When her hair is no longer dripping wet, she clicks off the dryer.

“Sorry, were you saying something?”

Kieran hops off the counter, coming to stand beside her. “Yes, but I can’t remember what.”

Livia grins. “You will in a second. In the meantime…” She makes to turn on the blowdryer again.

“Blue.” Kieran grabs the handle of the dryer, his hand brushing against hers. “I know how to braid.”

Liv gives his short-cropped hair a skeptical look. “You do? How?”

He shrugs. “Don’t remember. I can do yours if you like.”

“I _am_ hopeless at doing my own hair,” Livia admits, and sets down the dryer.

Kieran moves to stand behind her, and without warning, reaches forward to gather Liv’s hair behind her back. “Brush,” he says, holding out a hand, and Livia wordlessly hands it to him.

Warmth emanates from his body - if he took another step forward, he’d be pressing her against the counter. Livia fights not to blush, but redness creeps along her cheeks anyway; luckily, Kieran doesn’t notice, brow furrowed in concentration as he finishes combing her hair and separates it into three strands.

“French or regular?”

“You can do French?” Livia says.

Kieran laughs, bringing their faces level in the mirror. “Don’t sound so surprised.” He adjusts the positioning of his fingers, starting the braid closer to the crown of her head. He begins to braid, slowly, pulling every loop as tight as he can.

“Ow,” Liv grumbles, as he yanks a bit harder than necessary.

“Do you want it to fall apart?” Kieran mutters, but after that, he’s noticeably gentler.

A shiver runs down Livia’s spine as his hand brushes against her neck. He definitely doesn’t need to be touching her, but he is, knuckles slowly sliding down her back as he continues braiding. Livia is suddenly hyperaware of the lack of space between them, and her breath hitches, fingers clenching slightly on the counter.

Kieran notices this, and stops, halfway down, her hair between his fingers. “Are you okay?”

“Um…” Liv wants so badly to lean into him, to turn her head and let their lips meet. Without thinking, she moves closer, scarcely half an inch. She thinks she can feel his heartbeat.

Kieran’s thumb brushes against her spine, sending electricity arcing through her body. Livia meets his eyes, dark and sultry, in the mirror. She’s sure their thoughts are syncing now, that the image of his hands around her waist, lifting her on the counter as their mouths clash, runs through his mind, too.

“Too close?” His voice, deep and soothing, sends vibrations into her. Livia’s finding it hard to breathe.

Lust and fear become one and the same. As much as she wants her emotions to flood out, Livia doesn’t want to drown. “You’re just where you need to be,” She replies softly.

Kieran finishes braiding and leans over Liv’s shoulder to take the elastic from the counter, refraining from pressing into her, keeping his distance. Part of Livia appreciates the gesture. Another part, dark and selfish, wants him to violate her.

Livia runs a hand over the finished braid. It feels even, taut, and comfortable. Sakura could have done a better job, but only marginally. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Kieran steps back, and just like that, the tense energy is gone, dissipated in the molecules of distance between them.

Liv turns, leaning against the counter. Having her hair pulled back from her face somehow gives her a little bit of clarity. She takes a deep breath, calming her racing heart, and says, “You once told me that life is too short not to do what I want.”

Kieran nods. His gaze is hungry for what she has to say next.

“I don’t know what I want…Yet.” Livia can see it in his eyes, that he knows what she means. Because he pays attention, and listens. “But when I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

He nods again. “Okay.”

The weekend passes just as all the days have, and yet wildly different. Livia senses that everything, and nothing, has changed. Kieran walks the edge of kindness and waspish indifference as hard as ever. He smiles at Liv, pokes fun at her, helps her in bio and complains about doing so. But he stays away, making sure their hands never touch, that he’s never in her personal space.

Livia doesn’t know whether to be mad or grateful. All she knows is that she misses being close to him.

On their last night as partners, black and blue walk silently in tandem, back to their cabins. It’s late; Liv had done her tasks as slowly as possible, prolonging their time together. And, assuming her senses hadn’t failed her, Kieran did the same.

Their footsteps slow at Livia’s cabin. Liv stands in front of the door, reluctant to go inside.

“We’ll still be friends after this.” It doesn’t sound like a question, but Livia knows it could be. Two weeks with the black-clad crewmate taught her that he, like any of her other shipmates, isn’t someone to be feared - nor fully trusted.

Sakura might be warming up to Kieran. But the others…Livia looks down, unsure. Time froze in the two weeks they all split up. In their eyes, Kieran’s still sus, the odd one out, the outcast with a murderous glint. What would they say of Liv if she starts treating him like he’s human?

She decides she doesn’t care. “Yes.” Before Livia can second-guess herself, she steps forward, flings her arms around his neck, and hugs him.

The spacesuits and helmets provide a needed barrier. Kieran’s arms circle her waist, holding her close. Liv forces herself to pull away before she gets ahead of herself. She steels herself to look at him.

“I’ll miss you,” Kieran says, voice muffled from the glass. His hands linger for a moment, then fall away.

“I’ll be around.”

“Yeah, but…” _It won’t be the same._

Livia reaches for the keypad to her cabin. For a moment, she’s tempted enter the password slowly, in full view, a silent invitation for Kieran to join her. Instead, she cups her hand around it, just like she’s always done. “Goodnight, Kieran.”

“Night, Livia.”

Maybe one day, she’ll gain that kind of bravery. She hopes it’s one day soon.

\- - -

Black smoke billows out of the lightbox, making Livia’s eyes water. “Shit,” She mutters, squinting through it in the light of her headlamp. The whole starboard half of the ship went dark only minutes before, sending Liv sprinting in the emergency-light pathways to electrical one. Sakura, ever the compassionate friend, hangs around behind her in case she needs help.

“What happened?” They call. 

“Same thing that did a couple of months ago. Blown fusebox.” Livia replies, fumbling for said gadget. A couple of the wires have come loose, and one of them, still live, brushes against her bare arm. “Ow! Fuck!”

“What? What?” Sakura cries nervously.

“Nothing. Wire.” Livia unhooks the fusebox and wrests it out with a grunt, waving the rest of the smoke away. She opens it; the processor is completely burned. “Damn.”

“You really get a potty mouth when something goes wrong, huh?” Sakura teases.

“Everyone does. Hand me a fuse processor.”

Sakura walks over and kneels down by Livia and her open toolbox. “You’re going to have to teach me what that is, Livia- _sensei_.”

“I already have. And I’m not your _sensei_.”

“Ah, don’t sell yourself short.” Sakura, also wearing a headlamp, opens the toolbox, their hand sifting through metal parts and pieces.

“The one that’s a circle in another circle,” Livia says, pointing.

Sakura hands the processor to Liv, who sets to work fixing the fusebox. She clicks it into place, mends a few wires, and the lights finally flicker back on.

“That was fast.”

Livia jumps, startled, and whirls around to see Kieran, helmet under his arm, dark hair slightly mussed. It’s gotten longer over the past week. “Gods, Kieran. Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“I can’t _sneak_ , Liv, there’s an airlock.”

Liv. _“My friends call me Liv.”_ So why does she miss the sound of all three syllables falling from his lips?

“She just gets caught up in the work,” Sakura says knowingly, nudging their friend. “Huh, Liv- _sensei_?”

“ _Chan_ works just fine, thanks.” Livia strips off her grease-slicked gloves and stands with them in hand, uncaring of her smeared cheek and wispy ponytail. She resists the urge to sniff her shirt; she no doubt smells terribly of smoke and oil. “Why’re you here?”

Kieran raises an eyebrow. “I finished my tasks…”

“Did you.”

“…And I thought I’d come see you.”

“You would, huh?” Sakura grins, giving Livia a conspiratorial wink. She shakes her head at them.

“If I’m not welcome…” Kieran trails off, turning slowly to the door.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Liv says, “I’ve just been feeling a bit off, lately.”

“Wonder why,” Sakura muses, casually leaning against the console. Livia shoots them another warning look.

_“I don’t know what I want yet. But when I do, you’ll be the first to know.”_

Trouble is, she still doesn’t know. Blaine didn’t make it easier her first night back with him, kissing her as soon as she walked into his cabin. And Liv can’t admit that she didn’t like it, because she _did_ , the familiarity of his soft lips, his smooth jaw, his hands beneath her thighs as he carried her to the bed.

Blaine leaves her breathless. He doesn’t give her time to think.

Whereas Kieran stands at what feels like a mile away, dark eyes kind and wild and patient all at once.

“Do you two need a minute to talk, or something?” Sakura says, glancing between them, and Livia realizes she’s been looking at him for longer than normal.

“No. No, sorry, I was, um…” Livia clears her throat. “Lost in thought.”

“Yeah.” Kieran wets his lips. “Me too.”

Livia is suddenly very glad for Sakura. There’s no telling what she might have done if they hadn’t been there.

“Alright, just saying,” Sakura shrugs, “I never know whether you two are going to kill or kiss each other.”

“Neither,” Kieran says before Livia can say anything, and the word sticks like a rose-thorn in her side. “How are your tasks going, Sakura?”

“Oh, you know me. Oxygen-ing it up.” Sakura kneels down, closes Liv’s toolbox, and slides it beneath the controls. “Let’s get some food, huh? Finn told me he tried putting lettuce in the air fryer.”

“Sounds interesting.” Kieran clicks his helmet into place, then turns to Liv. “Coming, Livia?”  
_There he is._ “Yeah.”

\- - -

_I come into Blaine’s room in the early evening, when the rest of the crewmates settle down for the night. He waits for me on the floor, a blanket spread beneath a large, round plate of pepperoni pizza and cans of soda. My favorite guilty pleasure._

_“Hey.” Blaine’s brilliant blue eyes crinkle at the edges as I undo my helmet. The words I had prepared,_ “I want to make this quick,” _die in my throat. There’s something comforting about the single bedside lamp, setting Blaine’s curls alight, the smell of melting cheese, his warm smile. I almost want to melt in the perfect goldenness of it all._

_And yet, it doesn’t seem quite right._

_“Blaine, I didn’t come to stay.”_

_His beautiful face falls a little. “No?”_

_“No.” I take a deep breath. “I think…I’m not ready to commit. Not this much. You said…” I give a shaky sigh. “You told me you loved me.” Blaine’s eyes search mine. “I just don’t think I’m…ready for that. Not here, not now.”_

_“So, what are you ready for?”_

_“I don’t know.” I look down at my helmet, glossy and blue. I can’t see my reflection, only a smudge, a shadow of myself. “I need time and space to think. Can you give me that? Blaine?”_

_I’m afraid to look at him, but I do. Blaine nods, once, disappointed but accepting. He doesn’t move to stand, only says, “Okay.”_

It was too easy, too perfect. Blaine, the understanding boyfriend, willing to give Livia as much space as she wants. Any girl would come running back in a week. But the night before the end of grace period, Liv stays in her own cabin, leaving on a nightlight, tossing and turning in the dark. She doesn’t mind being on her own, she reasons. She likes it, in fact.

“I don’t owe Blaine anything,” Livia whispers, more than once. “Not a damn thing.”

At some indiscriminate hour, she needs to use the bathroom. Liv sighs, puts on her spacesuit, and resolves to get it over with quickly. She hopes she can get a little bit of sleep tonight, but she certainly won’t bet on it happening.

The hallway is deathly quiet; Livia can hear her own, unlabored breathing within her helmet. She walks towards the bathroom as silently and quickly as possible, keeping her footsteps light on the steel. Then, she runs straight into a shadow.

“Gods!” Livia shrieks as Kieran turns around, nearly invisible in the darkness.

Kieran steps back, eyes wide. “What are you doing?”

“What am I…? I have to pee, what do you mean?”

“I thought you were going to kill me.”

“Kill…?” Livia shakes her head. “What time is it?”

“Past six.”

Her heart skips a beat. “Oh.” Livia hesitates, but she really _does_ need to go. 

“I’ll wait outside in case you need help,” Kieran says.

“I know how to use a bathroom,” Livia replies, rolling her eyes.

Kieran returns the gesture. “I mean, if there’s an impostor around.”

“What about you?”

“Yes, and what about _you_?” Kieran retorts. “Just be quick. If I kill you, I promise to make it painless.”

“That’s comforting,” Livia mutters, but she’s too tired to care, and slips past him.

Going to the bathroom on the _Skeld_ is a tricky maneuver. There’s no airlock, so Liv has to leave her helmet on, and balances the oxygen canister on her bare knees. She’s used to the awkwardness by now and finishes without incident.

As Livia exits her stall, another one nearby opens. “Hello?”

A red spacesuit, Poppy, staggers out. Even from a few feet away, Liv can tell she’s shaking violently, clutching her stomach. Livia is reluctant to approach, but she calls, “Poppy? You okay?”

Her instincts tell her to run. She edges for the door. Poppy lifts her head - the whites of her eyes are pink, makeup smeared, mouth open and trembling. “I’m so…” She stumbles towards Liv, who backs up against the door. “So…hungry…”

Livia reaches for the handle.

Poppy lurches forward, her transformation instantaneous and fluid. One moment, she looks like any distressed human - then, her helmet comes off with a pop, and the sleeves fall flat as black tentacles emerge. Poppy grins, her mouth filled with rows of razor-sharp teeth. Her eyes, wide and bulging, gleam red.

For a moment, Livia is too scared to move. She forces herself to, yanking open the door and screaming as loud as she can, “It’s red! Kieran, red’s the imp-”

A tentacle shoots forward - Livia rolls to avoid it, but it changes direction, wrapping around her waist with ease. Livia screams, one gloved hand clinging to the doorknob, the other trying futilely to pull off the impostor’s grip. The monsters slavering jaw, unhinging, marks the entrance to a black-pink gullet. Livia whimpers, punching at the tentacle to get it to let go. The impostor takes its time, unhurt, walking, _slithering_ forward, unhuman eyes wide with excitement.

“Motherf…” Liv is cut off as the impostor’s tentacle tightens around her chest; She can’t catch her breath. Where the hell is Kieran?

_Breath,_ Livia thinks dimly, and pain explodes in her torso as something cracks. _Breath. Air._ Her oxygen tank. One hand is still free, grip slipping from the door handle.

Livia makes a decision. She lets go, and the impostor makes a horrid noise, half hiss, half screech. She reaches behind her, unhooking the small oxygen tank from her shoulders. _One minute._ That’s how much time she has before she suffocates.

Kieran isn’t coming. No one will help. The impostor won’t let go.

Livia brings down the oxygen tank on the tentacle around her chest will all the force she can muster. The impostor squeals in protest, loosening its grip, and Liv falls to the ground, agony still cracking along her ribs. Another smooth, black limb wraps around her ankle and begins to drag her to the impostor’s open mouth. Livia tries to sit up, swinging blindly, but the pain is too much, and she remains on the floor, at the mercy of the monster.

The impostor’s jaw opens over her leg, too far away to whack off. Desperate, Livia throws the tank, but it bounces off the bulbous head, nothing but a mere annoyance. The impostor growls, almost mocking her. Liv braces herself for the pain.

A wailing siren goes off, and all the bathroom lights pulse a glaring red. Immediately, the impostor retreats into its human form, and Poppy kneels on the tile, wincing in pain.

_Of course._ Livia starts to laugh, but her ribs erupt in fresh agony, and she stops. The emergency sirens vibrate at multiple, dissonant pitches, harmful to humans in the long run, but more importantly - they force impostors back into their disguised state.

Poppy snarls in frustration, reaching for her helmet and firmly twisting it back on. “This isn’t over,” She growls, running over to the door to escape, and flings it open.

Sakura, as soon as they see Poppy, curls their gloved fist, and socks her right in the stomach. The red-clad impostor doubles over, stumbling back. “Bitch,” Sakura spits, “I can’t believe I thought you were cool.”

_Sakura,_ Livia tries to say, but finds that she can’t. Her hands fly to her throat in panic; her helmet has run out of oxygen.

“Liv!” Sakura runs to Livia’s side, their pink suit bright red in the light. Livia frantically points to the dented oxygen tank on the other side of the bathroom. Spots dance in her eyes, her lungs struggling to cope. “Oh, shit…”

Another person runs into the room, but Livia can’t see them, her eyes fluttering closed. She hears voices, feels something on her back, then - a fresh burst of oxygen. She takes great, gulping breaths, and with the rush of air comes a rush of new pain from her ribs, and a pounding in her temples.

“Is she okay?” Kieran demands, his words faraway.

“She’ll be fine. Where the hell is Finn?”

Their voices, and the wailing of the siren, sing Livia into unconsciousness.

\- - -

_“What happened?”_

_Sakura._

_“I’m not sure. Her heart rate became irregular for a minute or two.”_

_Someone I don’t recognize, an older man, with a vaguely Slavic accent._

_“That doesn’t sound good.”_

_“I’m not sure what it means, but she’s stable now.”_

_A beat of silence._

_“Alice will be fine, Saki,” The older man says soothingly. “It’s probably just stress.”_

_Saki? Alice?_

Livia wakes feeling as if she’s floating. Soft white presses into her back and arms. Clouds, maybe. Or marshmallow fluff.

A round, pale face with colorless eyes appears above her. White hair and bright light form a halo, their expression kind and benevolent.

“Are you…” Livia struggles to speak, her voice hoarse. “An angel?”

“Fortunately, I’m just Finn. I’m glad you’re awake, love. Can you sit up a bit? You need water.”

Livia nods. Finn’s steady hands help her move to a sitting position, leaning against pillows he stacks up behind her. She notices her chest is wrapped tightly in bandages, but her arms are free; she takes the offered cup of water and sips it by herself.

It’s been a while since she’s been in in the clinic. Finn spends more time here than he does in his cabin, and she can tell. The drawers of pill bottles and natural medicines are crowded on top with rocks in all colors, taken from meteorites, his home, or both, Livia doesn’t know. The desk is cluttered with paper and pencils, and the counter holds a few odd-smelling beakers.

“Where’s Sakura?”

“Sleeping, I expect. I’m afraid it’s just the two of us for now,” Finn says apologetically.

“It’s been a whole day?”

Finn nods. “Just about. We’re holding off the meeting until you heal. It shouldn’t take much longer.” Livia presses a hand to her chest, noticing that the pain in her ribs has lessened to a dull throbbing. “Which reminds me…” He’s sitting on a wheeled chair, and rolls over to the counter, picking up one of the beakers. Finn hands Livia one of them, filled with half an inch of thick, lilac-colored syrup.

“Do I…drink this?”

“Uh-huh.”

The concoction tastes like bubblegum, and Livia smacks her lips when she finishes. A sudden wave of drowsiness overtakes her, and the beaker nearly slips from her fingers. Finn takes it as Liv leans back, eyes closing once more.

[Did You Know? The title of the fic, Intervals, comes from an atmospheric album by Quok, and the chapter titles come from some of the album’s songs.]


	6. Lucid

Livia wishes she had a map. Her head still feels foggy, and the ship’s new placement of chambers certainly doesn’t help her sense of direction. She passes one of the electricals, then bio, then a room she doesn’t immediately recognize, then the other electrical. Or is it the same one? Livia sighs hopelessly, leaning against the corridor.

_Okay. The cafeteria is in the center. If I keep turning left, then…_

Livia walks straight into a dead end, the corridor ending at the airlock of a dimly lit chamber. Instead the slightly translucent glass, she can see Sakura, pink spacesuit slouching casually near one of the oxygen monitors. Wondering why they’re working in the dark, and not yet at the meeting, Livia steps into the airlock.

She should’ve realized sooner.

But it’s not until she sees the blood, pooling darkly at their feet, sprinkled on the white wall behind them like a grotesque constellation of red stars, that she knows. Sakura hangs by their braids, knotted around a structural bar, their boots scarcely an inch off the ground. Chunks of flesh from their body and limbs are jagged at the edges, damaged organs shining in the light from the hallway.

Livia fights the urge to vomit even as tears fill her eyes. “Sakura…” She’s shaking, filled with disgust and fear, wanting to look away but unable to tear her gaze from their face, limp, eyes half-closed.

There’s a sticky note on the monitor next to the hanging corpse. Liv hardly has to squint to see its contents: a simple doodle, in black marker, of a smiley face.

Livia balls her fists, choked sobs constricting her throat. This isn’t the work of a starved, desperate monster, but a calculating alien who knows exactly how to get to humans. Who knows exactly what weak points to hit.

“Who are you?” Livia cries, falling to her knees, tearing her eyes away from Sakura’s body. “ _Who are you?_ I’ll fight you myself, you son of a bitch!” She screams herself hoarse, sobbing, trembling from head to foot.

The telltale hiss of the airlock makes Livia turn. Four figures, white, yellow, orange, and black, rush into the room.

“We heard…oh.” Blaine falls silent, paling at the sight of the bleeding corpse. “Oh, no.”

“It…it was one of you!” Livia exclaims, still on her knees, gesturing at them wildly. “Haven’t you killed enough? Haven’t you had your fill?”

She’s met only with silence. The crewmates are sickened, saddened, and numb. Sakura is their sixth casualty. Someone had to be it.

“Show yourself,” Livia begs, voice cracking.

_Sakura takes the orange from my hand, deftly peeling it. “Where would you be without me, Liv?” They sigh._

“Say something!”

_Their fingers in my hair, humming a melody they made up on the spot._

“I swear to Hades, I’ll figure it out. I’ll kill you. Do you hear me? I’LL KILL YOU!”

_Sakura, my best friend, grins as I struggle to carry a full oxygen canister. They, of course, hoist two. “C’mon Liv-chan, it’s not far. You got this.”_

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Amber’s voice is frosty, unsympathetic as she looks down her nose at Livia. “Why didn’t you care this much when Marilee died?”

“Are you…” Liv, aghast, trails off. How can she say that, as Sakura’s lifeless body hangs before them?

“This looks like a self-reported murder to me,” Amber says breezily, and for a moment, Finn and Blaine seem to consider it. Only Kieran remains expressionless. He hasn’t looked at her, only Sakura, lips pressed into a thin line.

“You want a self-reported murder?” Livia growls, grief and anger bringing her to stand. “I’ll give you a fucking self-reported-” She lunges, reaching for Amber’s throat. Finn squeaks in alarm, stepping between them, and Livia makes to push him aside.

Blaine’s arms wrap around her waist, pulling her back. “Let. Go. Of. Me!” She yells, punctuating each word with an elbow jab to Blaine’s stomach. He grunts in pain but doesn’t loosen his grip.

“Liv, calm down.”

“Calm down? Calm _down?_ ” Livia shrieks. “My best friend is dead!” She pummels Blaine’s arms. “I said let go!”

“Maybe don’t grab her there,” Finn says nervously. “She’s not fully healed.”

“Stay away from me,” Amber tells her, stepping back, fear tinging her voice.

“Fine, just let go!”

Blaine finally releases her, and Livia steps away from him, breathing heavily. “Don’t fucking touch me again,” She snarls, and hurt cracks the glacier-blue ice of Blaine’s eyes.

“Livia.” It’s the first time Kieran has spoken, his voice the most even of them all. “We’ll find the impostor.”

“How do I know it’s not you?” Livia whirls on him, poking him sharply in the chest.

Kieran is irritatingly calm. “You don’t.”

“Don’t play games with me, black. Are you the impostor or not?”

The brown of his eyes is unmarred by red guilt. “No. Poppy was self-aware. I can say for certain that I’m not.”

“You’re not seriously going to believe him, are you?” Blaine interjects, glaring suspiciously at Kieran.

“Does anyone have a map?” Livia says, ignoring him. No one answers. Blaine doesn’t quit with his dirty looks, but Kieran refrains from reacting. Still, fury smolders in his gaze, and Liv can tell he’s doing everything he can to control it. “Hello? Does anyone have an updated map of the goddamn ship?”

“I do,” says Amber, and she takes out her orange-bound notebook, flipping to the last scrawled-on page. She hands it to Livia, who kneels and lays it flat on the floor.

“Are we…” Finn gulps nervously, glancing at the corpse, then quickly back to Liv. “Are we having a meeting now?”

“Shut up and sit down.” Any guilt Livia might have over ordering the medic around is crushed by desperation and the burning thirst for revenge. She’ll find the impostor if it kills her, using any means of investigation possible, and kick the monster’s body into space for it to freeze.

Even if the monster turns out to be Kieran. _Especially_ if it turns out to be Kieran.

The oxygen room, despite being in a remote part of the ship, has a hallway with a lot of access points. Not to mention - Livia glances at the blood at the floor, not raising her gaze any higher - that the body isn’t fresh. Anyone could have killed.

“Everyone write your initial and the number two at your position when you heard me screaming,” Livia instructs. “Then your initial and number one at where you were about three hours earlier.” Her hands are shaking as she fills in medbay and oxygen. The deafening pain in her head has lowered to a buzz; she feels as if she’s channeling Silas, his calm analysis under pressure.

But even as information falls, in orange ink, on the pages, Livia feels hopeless. All five crew members were scattered around the ship, doing tasks, then gathered in the cafeteria. All was as it should be.

“Trace your routes as best as you can,” Livia says, and, not wishing for another outburst, her shipmates obey.

_“One thing you have to remember about these aliens,” Silas says, cross-legged on the floor, “Is that they think and act like we do.”_

_“Are you saying it’s impossible to tell them apart by characteristics alone?” Daphne sighs. Their shoulders are touching as they speak, mostly to each other, and I feel like I’m intruding._

_“Not exactly. I’ve heard of other ships that were invaded, and journals of the survivors remarked how everything clicked into place when they found the impostors.” Silas adjusts his glasses like he does when he thinks he’s made a breakthrough, and Daphne and I lean forward eagerly. “If we can somehow work backwards from the kills, we can figure out the impostors’ motivations…”_

_“…and therefore, the impostors,” I conclude. “Only two people have died. Do you think we can figure it out just from that?”_

_“Probably not,” Silas admits._

_“I still think it’s a smart idea,” Daphne says, honey-golden eyes adoring. It’s the last time I ever see them together._

Intentions. Of course. Livia feels very still, as if her own flesh-and-blood body has turned into the hushed cosmos. How many times has she been here, watching her crewmates scribble hopelessly on sheets of marked paper, figuring out every movement of each other? It’s hopeless from the start; the impostor is no doubt lying.

_How could I have been so stupid?_ Liv leans over the paper, deep in thought, but she barely registers the lines and letters. She slowly catalogues the kills of the past few months.

Fawn. Lazy, but achingly smart. Definitely a threat to the impostors in the long run, and easy pickings.

Phoenix, or Nix, as Livia had come to know him. The one who lifted everyone’s spirits, Finn’s boyfriend, one of Sakura’s favorite people.

Daphne. Expert flirt and even better biologist. Livia had been close with her, too. Her and Silas both.

Which brought her to Silas himself. But Silas wasn’t the only target, was he? One tentacle dragged his body away, while the other reached for Livia. Blaine pulled her out of the way, determined not to let her get killed.

_Not yet._

Livia’s blood runs cold. The impostors can kill as many people as they want during the two-week period. But every time, it’s only been one victim. Poppy, ravenous and uncontrollable, who attacked Liv minutes after grace, needed a patient, calculating partner to keep her in check. Someone who knew the _Skeld_ ’s weaknesses like the back of their hand and would exploit them for as long as possible in order to achieve maximum satisfaction. 

Livia can’t come to any conclusions yet. She moves on to Marilee, Amber’s spunky girlfriend, their fuel and engines expert. The impostor could have killed Finn, joining him and Nix in death, but had separated another couple instead. _Why?_ To sow distrust, pain, confusion.

_“They think and act like we do.”_

Following that pattern, Blaine should have died next, or already been dead. So why did the impostor go for Sakura instead?

_Because they were the next best thing._

Livia takes a shaky breath. Four unarmed crewmates against one, multi-tentacled impostor. They may stand a chance, but someone would undoubtedly die. She’s not about to let that happen.

“I have a sus.”

The four astronauts look at her, expectant. Livia shakes her head.

“I’m not going to say who.”

“Well, I have a sus, too,” Amber says. “And the rest of you?”

Finn, Kieran, and Blaine nod grimly.

“We could do a blind vote,” Finn suggests.

“No. They’re expecting us to act now.” Livia keeps her head bowed, as if she’s looking at the map, but she keeps her eyes trained on the impostor’s hands, lest they begin to transform. “Impostor, I’m giving you a night to figure out what to do next.”

“What?” Amber says incredulously.

“You’re giving them _time_?” Blaine cries, eyes wide.

“Livia, you’re a smart bird, but even this sounds ridiculous.” Finn shakes his head.

Kieran’s coal-dark eyes are furiously alight. “You’re either insane or brilliant,” He breathes, tone unquestionably impressed. Livia wants to kiss him.

“We need to vote _now_ ,” Amber insists, and the impostor’s hands tense.

“I’ll have a plan tomorrow, I promise,” Liv says firmly. “For now, we stay in our cabins, where we’re safe.” Finn, Amber, and Blaine still look skeptical. “It’s just one day. We can afford to leave our tasks for one day.”

“You heard her,” Kieran says, standing immediately. “Straight to the cabins.”

“You two are a real pain in the ass, you know that?” Amber grumbles, closing her notebook with a snap.

“Wait,” Livia says as the crewmates prepare to leave. “One more thing. Impostor…” She looks all four deliberately in the eye. “I think you’ll agree that it was too hasty and irresponsible of red to attack me in the bathroom. Don’t pull something like that today. It’s embarrassing for all parties involved.”

Finn looks taken aback, Amber unimpressed, Blaine puzzled, and Kieran amused. Livia pays no mind to any of them; she’s gotten her message across. If she knows the impostor at all, she feels sure that they won’t attack today.

The five crewmates walk back to their cabins in a huddle, silent and solemn. Now that she knows who the impostor is, Livia can’t stop thinking of Sakura, hanging dismally, body mutilated and soul Hades-knows-where. She swallows bile.

As they near the cabins, Livia feels a hand on her shoulder. She glances around, noticing Kieran, but before she can say anything, he touches her in a rhythm.

Tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap. Tap.

He pauses, then repeats the pattern, slowly.

Two. Seven. Three. Three. Eight. One.

Livia remains poker-faced as she and the others enter their respective cabins. She resolves to wait a few hours before accepting the invitation.

\- - -

Kieran is reading when Livia walks in. That is, he’s looking at a book, at least five hundred pages thick, its cover bent as he flips through the first part.

“I thought all your books are empty,” Livia says, and Kieran looks up. She takes off her helmet, shaking her hair free, and he watches, slightly dazed.

“I thought you weren’t coming.”

“Well…here I am.” She unzips her spacesuit and steps out of it. “The book?” She prompts.

“My second journal,” Kieran explains, and as Liv approaches, she can see it’s scrawled in black ink. He sits up, closing the volume as she perches on the edge of the bed.

“You’re hiding it from me?” There’s no hurt in the question, only curiosity.

Kieran tosses the book onto the floor. “I don’t trust you enough.” A pause. “Maybe I could, in time.”

Livia nods. One month is not enough to know a person inside and out. It will take a million more hours of stargazing and conversation to fully open up, to confess wants and dreams and fears. She knows that now.

If only they had more time.

“How are you?”

Liv’s heart constricts even at the simple question. She’s no longer naïve to the fact that there is no better place, no other side, where Sakura waits. They’re gone, and the faster she accepts that, the less it will hurt.

But she can’t accept it. She dares to hope, and the pain of it burns like a supernova. Livia can’t bear it by herself.

Kieran is there before she can ask for him, pulling her to his chest. Liv sobs as if her heart is breaking, because it is, fragmenting into pieces more numerous than the stars, and just as bright. She feels his tears, too, falling into her hair, a fair trade as she dampens his dark blue sweater. It comforts her, a little, to know that they both know how to cry. It reminds her that they’re human.

_“Don’t sell yourself short.” Sakura flashes me a smile before opening the toolbox._

Liv has a job to do.

She pulls away, breathing shakily. Her hands rest on Kieran’s chest - his fall to her shoulders. “Thank you,” Livia says softly, and he nods silently. What more can he say? Their faces are inches away. She wants badly to close the distance.

First things first.

“Do you know who the impostor is?” She asks.

“Yes.”

Liv doesn’t ask him how he knows. “I think I know how to get him to reveal himself.”

“You’re not going to try to convince the others?” Livia shakes her head. “Okay.” _You say you don’t trust me,_ Liv thinks, but the look of certainty in Kieran’s dark eyes reveals that he at least trusts her instincts.

“He’s been saving me for last.” Livia’s stomach turns at the thought. “If I can lure him into what he thinks is a guaranteed kill, he won’t hesitate.”

“Isn’t he…” Kieran grimaces. “Sated?”

“He’ll want me sooner if I can convince him I won’t be there for much longer.”

“Suicide.”

It’s not a question, but Liv nods in reply anyway. She nearly considered it, alone in her cabin, to join the cold stars and end her misery. The thought of Sakura kicking her in the shins if they knew what she was thinking steered her away.

“You could die, Livia.”

She shrugs. “Get the others to see, while he’s distracted, then hit the alarm. We’ll take him out the same way we did Poppy.”

Kieran frowns. “I can’t change your mind, can I?”

“No.” Livia’s lips form a tiny smile. “I didn’t know you cared if I died or not.”

Kieran quirks an eyebrow. “At this point, it’d be stupid if I didn’t.”

Liv laughs, and the sound surprises her. Kieran tries and fails to squash a smile.

“What?” He asks, and she starts to giggle in earnest, spurred by the unexplainable burst of joy she feels with him, and the utterly confused look on his face.

“Gods, you…” Livia plucks at his sweater, grinning like a maniac. “You’re soaked.”

“And whose fault is that?” Kieran says quietly, mouth twitching in amusement.

Somehow, Liv manages to get her giggles under control, and a comfortable silence falls. They’re no longer touching, but close enough that she can feel his warmth, and catch a scent of vanilla. His shampoo, maybe - she no longer thinks he’s the type to wear cologne. Then again, she doesn’t know him nearly as much as she’d like to.

_We have a plan._ Livia holds that knowledge like a precious stone and feels that there’s no need for anything else. She doesn’t _need_ to know Kieran, as long as he’s got her back. Her time here was well spent. She can go.

_So, why don’t I?_

But Kieran doesn’t stand and lead her to the door, only looks at her, dark, beautiful eyes tracing the contours of her face. Liv lets him, pretending not to know what it means, letting blissful ignorance stand between them for just a little while longer.

Finally, she starts, “What…”

Kieran cuts her off with a shake of his head. Livia gives him a questioning look. She’s surprised to see his hand shaking as he reaches forward, fingers threading through her hair.

“Please,” He breathes, and Livia hears the tremble, the uncertainty. “No more talking.”

The kiss is feather-soft and hesitant, like the first of shy teenagers. This isn’t new for Livia, but it _feels_ new, Kieran’s lips just barely brushing against hers. _What are you afraid of, black?_

Her hands slide to his neck, pulling him closer, and Kieran finally relents, _really_ kissing her, one hand in her hair, the other on her waist. Livia tilts her head, parting her lips, tugging at his sweater.

Any semblance of politeness, of innocence, dissolves. Livia wastes no energy wondering if this is love or unfounded passion, only focuses on Kieran, his skin beneath her hands, his fingers, nimbly undressing, his mouth trailing down her body with all the sweetness of honey…

Livia feels as if they lie in the heart of a star, ablaze, beautiful in its mortality. All things must come to an end, but she ignores this, lost in Kieran’s arms, his kisses, all the desperation and desire within them pouring out, and filling the other.

If the circumstances were different, if they were on solid ground, swaddled with safety and a saturated atmosphere, Livia doesn’t know if she would have opened so thoroughly to him. But the circumstances are what they are, and she does what she can with them. There’s no regret when she falls asleep curled into Kieran, his arm around her waist.

She takes all the love she can, before death comes for her next.

\- - -

In the early morning, Livia goes over the plan again as she walks back to her cabin. She tries to scrub away the glimmering happiness of the night before, schooling her expression in the mirror, sagging her shoulders.

_I want to die. My best friend was murdered, and I want to die._

This is her mask to don, her role to play. And play it she will, convincingly, until the end.

Five figures walk in a huddle to the cafeteria. The air is just as tense as yesterday’s, and it’s not until they reach the meeting table that someone dares to break the silence.

“You said you had a plan.” A statement, forcefully directed at Livia, from Amber. Her bright eyes are narrowed, suspicious. Livia wonders, if they all voted, could the impostor possibly garner a majority? She’s sure Amber suspects her now, but what of the others? 

The chance is too small to take. Livia brings tears to her eyes; it’s not difficult. “I…That was it. I thought maybe the impostor would…” She trails off, shaking her head.

Amber scoffs in disbelief. “Would what? Reveal themselves?”

“You were bluffing.” Finn sounds disappointed. He won’t meet her eyes.

Livia hugs her arms, doing her best to look uncertain. “I’m sorry. I let you all down. I was desperate, and I…” Part of her isn’t faking it, the exhaustion, the despair. She’s tired of hunting and being hunted. She has to end it.

As Livia stands, her gaze flickers to Blaine, and the split second is enough to read him. She’s known him for a long time after all. The worried forehead crease, the bitten lip, but the intensity in his eyes is a little too strong.

Hunger.

_Five minutes._ Livia tells herself as she meanders about the ship, taking the roundabout way to the main airlock. Kieran will hit the alarm in five minutes. She doubts the others will try to stop him - ask for an explanation, surely, but their questions will disappear when Kieran shows them proof.

Livia draws a protective hand over her stomach. Proof. She and Kieran agreed that Blaine needed to leave some sort of mark on her that only the impostor could make. It’s not enough to bank on the fact that Blaine is the only one following her; Livia knows Amber, at least, would suspect her of deliberately luring him.

_“You could die, Livia.”_

“I know,” She says aloud, stopping in front of the main airlock. Two small, round windows, set in line with each other, provide a view out of the white chamber and into the infinite, pinpricked blackness beyond. Somewhere, in the glittering clumps, lies the Europa Complex. Livia has no idea where the _Skeld_ is now. It occurs to her that it never really mattered, that the journey itself, bloodstained and meandering though it may be, is what the crew was placed here for.

The sound of footsteps scare her so much, she thinks she’s already dead. With a startled jump, she’s floating, away from here, up, up, up…

“What’s wrong?”

Blaine’s voice, familiar and warm, grounds Livia without her permission. The tears in her eyes are from an entirely different kind of sadness she wants to show, but they work well enough.

“What’s the point of all this?” Livia asks shakily, gesturing at space, at the ship. “Where are we going?”

Blaine laughs bitterly. “If I knew, I’d tell you.”

She rests her hand on the handle of the airlock, the one they used to eject Poppy. Once entered, the person inside can’t come back. Blaine’s eyes slide to her hand. “You _should_ be able to tell me. Navigator.” The resentment in Livia’s voice is real. She wishes she could go back, before the _Skeld_ , to… What? A green planet she can’t remember?

There’s nothing there, but a girl, whose face is like her own, pleading for her to come home.

For a moment, reality and acting overlap. Livia turns the handle.

In an instant, Blaine moves inhumanly fast, grabbing her, pinning her to the wall. “I’ve waited too long for you,” he says, and the words are either the whine of a jilted lover or the growl of a monster. Livia knows which, and she struggles, desperately wondering how many minutes have gone by. “You don’t get to decide when you die.”

Livia feigns cluelessness. “And you do?”

The impostor’s razor-toothed grin is an answer that chills Livia to her core. She’s suddenly sorry that she and Kieran agreed to act indifferent towards another that morning. She could have used a goodbye.

But death does not accommodate goodbyes.

Tentacles wrap around her limbs, the creature’s bulging eyes victorious. Only flashes of yellow are visible as the impostor takes its true form, teeth-dominated face leering. Livia struggles, but her hands already tingle with loss of blood. She can’t win, only hope that the others do. The end of five minutes must be near.

“Go on,” Livia says mockingly. “You must be starving.”

The impostor doesn’t hesitate, its monstrous jaws unhinging. The sharp teeth plunge into her shoulder, and Livia cries out, pain exploding like fire along her arm - only, there’s no arm, only a jagged stump where it used to be. She watches, vision blurry with agony, as her own fingers disappear into the blackish maw.

Red light appears in slow motion, pulsing along the walls. Livia can barely hear the siren, the pain in her shoulder evaporating all other senses. She’s screaming, or at least she thinks she is. The impostor grimaces, teeth raking her body in wretched appetite, and her flesh burns in agony. Livia falls to the floor, uncaring of Blaine’s fervent sprinting. She watches mutely as blood pools in a crimson wave on the steel floor.

_“Dr. Gorski!”_

_“What - oh, good Lord.”_

Rapid footsteps surround Livia’s head. She sees six - no, three - pairs of colored boots. She tries to speak, to inhale, but her lungs must be punctured.

_Like a balloon._ The thought is vaguely funny, but she’s not even permitted to laugh.

_“Prepare Alice for extraction.”_

_“And Dr. Chandra?”_

_“Let him finish the run.”_

Livia wants to ask who these people are. One of them sounds like Sakura, which is impossible. Unless she’s dreaming, more lucid than she ever has before. Perhaps the _Skeld_ is a dream. Maybe that’s all it ever has been.

She feels someone lifting her, cradling her head. “Livia! You idiot, you weren’t supposed to…” The rest of the words are drowned out by heartbeats, loud in Livia’s ears. As if her heart is trying to get her attention.

Her life spent in space was marked with pain. It’s only fitting that the end of it was, too.

[Did You Know? Going into shock is a well-known medical phenomenon caused by a drop in blood flow and can be fatal if not treated right away.]


	7. Epilogue: I Found You A Friend

Electricity sizzles into every cell, shocking Livia back to life. She gasps, eyes snapping open, chest arcing towards the two metal pads close to her heart.

“She’s conscious!” Calls a familiar voice. “Stand back.”

Bright light sears into Livia’s eyeballs, hurting her head. The fabric beneath her body is rougher than linen - her hands fist sheets into tight clumps.

Hands. _Hands_ , plural.

“Alice? Alice, are you alright? Respond if you can.” The first speaker leans over her. Their face, wide and freckled, is framed by dark bangs, streaked with pink. The rest of their hair is in double braids, hanging in front of a white lab coat.

“S…S…” Livia’s heart thrums, and she feels faint. “S-Sakura?”

The person frowns. “Sakura?” They echo. But that’s definitely them, not in their pink spacesuit, and with a slightly different haircut. They wear green eyeshadow, matching the blouse peeking at the top of their lab coat - definitely something they’d do. Sakura’s eyes go wide in realization - of what, Livia has no idea. “Doctor, she just called me by Pink’s name.”

Another face, completely unfamiliar, appears in Livia’s line of vision. “That’s not good.” The man, bearded and grizzled, has a voice that reminds Livia of a fireplace.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.” Sakura rests a hand on her shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. “Can you sit up for me, please?”

Trembling, Livia obliges, lifting herself with her arms, leaning back on pillows. _I have arms?_ She looks down at her right arm, the one she watched disappear into the gullet of an impostor. It appears to be completely fine, and when she pulls back the sleeve of the blue T-shirt she wears, the shoulder is equally unmarred.

Distressed, Livia looks around at her surroundings. She appears to be in a hospital of some sort, with the older man, Sakura, and a couple of paramedics that stand by with medical equipment. Livia feels something in her left hand, and notices that she’s connected by tubes to an IV drip. Her temples pulse with pain; she lifts her hands to her head, and finds it draped with some sort of smooth, thick, plastic cap.

A million questions race through Livia’s mind. “Who…where….”

“It’s alright.” Sakura lays a comforting hand on her arm. “We’re your friends. We’re going to help you.”

Livia can’t help but notice they avoid saying her name. “Wh-what did you call me earlier?”

Sakura and the gray-haired doctor exchange a worried glance. “Alice,” They say. “I know you as Dr. Alice Ebana.”

“Alice…” The name rolls off her tongue as easily as breathing. But is it hers? “N-no, my name…My name is Livia.”

The older man curses under his breath. Sakura is clearly trying to stay calm, their hands wringing agitatedly. “Okay, well…I am Dr. Masaki Endo. You sometimes call me Saki.”

“No, I don’t,” Livia insists. “You’re Sakura. And you-you’re supposed to be dead.” The image of Sakura’s body, hanging limply, suddenly comes to the surface. Livia gags, holding a hand to her stomach.

“Are you going to be sick?” The older doctor says worriedly. Sakura picks up a small trash bin from the floor and holds it up to Livia’s face. She promptly throws up. “That answers that,” The man grumbles.

“I died?” Not-Sakura says curiously. “I mean, Pink died?”

“Yes.” Tears prick Livia’s eyes, but Not-Sakura - Masaki - only looks mildly troubled.

“Damn. How long did they last?”

“Saki,” The other doctor scolds. “Check on…the other one, will you?”

Masaki purses their lips, but they obey, swiftly leaving the room, and the paramedics follow. Over their shoulder, Livia catches a glimpse of a clean, tiled hallway, the walls painted pale blue. Definitely not the _HMV Skeld._

“Am I…” Livia trails off in wonderment. “Am I on a planet right now?”

“Yes,” The doctor says slowly. “Ahem. I should introduce myself. Dr. Pietr Gorski.” He extends a hand, giving Livia’s a firm shake. He smells very strongly of a pine-scented cologne; Livia tries not to cough. “This, uh, _planet_ is called Earth. The town is Toronto. Toronto, Canada. Does that ring any bells?” Dr. Gorski squints at her.

“No.” Livia looks again at her hand, and the IV tube. “How did I get here?”

“Seeing how little you know already, I think that will take a more qualified person to answer,” says Gorski. “I have a video for you. Sit tight, Al- er, Livia.”

He walks behind Livia, and she twists to see a tiny, white box sitting on a wheeled, metal stand. Gorski turns on the box, and it hums to life, beaming a large, blue rectangle on the opposite wall where she can see. _Projector._ The word falls suddenly into her head.

Gorski plugs in a small, black rectangle into the projector, and the image changes. Livia gasps in horror at the face on the wall: dark brown eyes and lighter skin, round cheeks, and full lips. Besides the pulled-back hair and the white lab coat, it’s like looking into a mirror.

“Wh-who is that?” Livia asks. “That’s…that’s not me. It _can’t_ …”

The woman on the wall smiles reassuringly. “Hey, there. I know you must be feeling scared right now…” She even _sounds_ the same.

“What is this?” Livia demands.

“This is recorded, not live,” Gorski says reassuringly, but that’s the least of her concerns. “Watch.”

“Please know that you are safe and cared for before I explain what’s happening,” Livia’s double continues. “My name is Dr. Alice Wanda Ebana. I work as a lead researcher at the Toronto University for Psychological Research and Technology, in Canada, on planet Earth.” All of this sounds recited, but Alice’s tone grows more serious. “Today’s date is March thirty-first, 2084. The time is…” She glances down, presumably at a watch. “Nine-oh-four in the morning. I’ll pause for someone to tell you the present date.”

“Wednesday, April fifth,” Gorski informs Livia immediately. “Same year.”

Alice takes a deep breath, and Livia recognizes the mannerism; she’s not going to like what the psychologist has to say. “Later today, I, along with my colleague, Professor Devon Chandra, will be immersed in a virtual reality simulation in order to measure the effects of long-term distrust on humans. This experiment is a preliminary step in testing for Among Us, a popular video game that’s expanding into virtual reality.”

_What has this got to do with me?_ Livia thinks, but she holds her tongue.

“If you are watching this video, that means the immersion took hold of your brain, and your real memories have been replaced with those of a crafted character by the name of Livia.” Livia’s heart drops into her stomach. _No…_ “Livia…I am you. You are Dr. Alice Ebana, age twenty-six, a lead psychologist and researcher at Toronto University. The _HMV Skeld_ is a fabricated environment.”

“What?” Livia grips the sheets, grounding herself. The moons, the nebulae, teeth sinking into her flesh, Kieran… Oh, gods. _Kieran._ None of it was real? “That’s impossible. N-no, I… I was _there._ ”

“I’ll allow Dr. Pietr Gorski and Dr. Masaki Endo to explain the situation further and help you regain your memories.” Alice smiles warmly, and Livia wants to scream at this face-stealer, this…this… “The impostors are gone, Livia. You have nothing to fear.” Her face disappears, and the projector switches off.

Only one question circles through Livia’s mind. She looks at her hands, soft, the calluses from months of working in electrical mysteriously faded. Her head pounds; she’s thirsty and hungry.

_“Come back.” I must be dreaming; the girl, her face blurry, has the same hair I do. She sounds familiar, somehow. “Come back home, Alice.”_

“Alice…” The name hisses like rain on hot metal. It feels like a costume. Livia shakes her head. She needs something familiar. “Where’s Kieran?” She demands.

“Kieran?” Gorski says quizzically, then his eyes widen. “Oh! Yes, he’s in the building. Masaki’s checking on him right now.”

“Can I see him?” 

“You both need rest,” Gorski says firmly. “You’ll see him soon.” He walks over to a small box on the wall and presses a button on the side of it. “Room one-oh-one needs a recovery meal for Dr. Ebana, please.”

The next few hours pass in sluggish confusion. Livia eats and drinks more than she expected to. Every minute she spends in this world feels increasingly familiar, but she can’t quite be sure if she’s dreaming or not. Gorski informs her that she’ll begin watching memory-regaining videos starting tomorrow, as well as having family visits.

Livia recalls the girl from her dream. “Do I have a sister?”

Gorski beams, apparently delighted that she remembers something. “Yes, you do. Jasmine Ebana, she’s nineteen.”

Jasmine. Livia tries to remember her face, but she can only imagine features: a nose like hers, cheeks soft with youth, long, dark brown hair.

At some point, Masaki returns, expression scrunched in worry.

“How is he?” Gorski asks.

“Physically fine, but very distraught. He seems to think Livia is dead.”

Livia perks up. “Let me see him.”

Masaki exchanges a meaningful glance with Gorski. “I don’t know,” they say slowly, “It might not be a good idea for you to talk to each other.” Masaki turns to the older doctor. “They both have the wrong memories. Negative reinforcement might…”

“I hear and understand your concerns, Dr. Endo,” Gorski interrupts firmly, then his grey-green eyes fall on Livia. “Come with me. You have five minutes.”

The tile is cool on Livia’s bare feet as she follows Gorski and Masaki down the hall. Narrow windows near the ceiling don’t show any of the planet itself, but she sees clouds, white-yellow and puffy - evidence of a stable atmosphere. She still can’t quite believe everything the doctors have told her, and part of her hopes that this is all a dream.

_But how can you be dreaming,_ a small voice inside her says, _If you’re already dead?_

Livia’s calmness surprises herself. She’s chosen to accept the reality that Gorski and Masaki presented, for now - as long as it can get her to Kieran for a final goodbye, if nothing else.

Masaki opens the door to another hospital room, and Livia’s lungs stop working. Kieran, his hair longer than it ever has been, scarred arms pierced with IV tubes, widens his eyes at the sight of her.

“Livia.”

Before he can get up, Livia is there, arms around him, face buried in his shoulder. Kieran lets out a half-laugh, half-sob, pressing his lips to her temple. “I thought I lost you,” He murmurs, and as they pull apart, his hand drifts to her undamaged right shoulder. “I…I _did_ lose you.” For the first time, fear lingers in his eyes, pure and unveiled.

Livia squeezes his hand. “Did you watch a video?”

Kieran nods. “Professor Devon Chandra.” He pronounces his alias with ease, but no familiarity. “It’s so hard to believe. How could that be fake? You’re…real.” He brushes his thumb along Livia’s cheek, wiping away her tears.

His words remind Livia of something. “The others.” Sakura had taken the form of Dr. Masaki Endo. Who else was here? “Is Silas here?” Livia wonders aloud, “And Daphne, and…?”

“No,” Dr. Gorski interrupts. Livia turns to him and Masaki, who glances rapidly between her and Kieran with a stunned, flushed expression on their face. Gorski’s lined face is set grimly as he says, “You two were the only humans who entered the simulation. Crewmate Pink, Sakura, was based off Dr. Endo, but Saki themself was not aboard the _Skeld_. As for Lime, Green, Cyan, Orange, Purple, White, Brown, and the two impostors,” he rattles off the list, as impersonal as numbers, “They were all fabricated.”

“Fabricated?” Livia echoes, heart dropping. No. _No._ Hanging out with Daphne, helping Silas recover after her death, arguing with Amber, accepting Finn’s help… That couldn’t have been fake. “No. That was…that was _real_.”

Masaki’s expression is sympathetic. “That depends on your definition of real, I guess,” they say gently, “The events of the _Skeld_ did happen, and its crewmates existed, but only in your head. It’s like you and Dev- er, Kieran, shared a long dream.”

“Which brings us to the next step,” Gorski says. “We’ll continue your recovery later, but we need to run tests and ask questions about the simulation.”

Livia feels as if she’s floating in limbo, stuck between the spaceship she knew for months and the years-long home on Earth she forgot. Snippets come back to her now - Jasmine’s face is becoming clearer and clearer. She knows, at least, that her favorite color hasn’t changed. The glance out the window at the sky made her remember that she likes days like these, sunny, with puffs of cloud breaking up the bright cerulean.

Her hand, entwined with Kieran’s, reminds her that she loves pearls of rain, too.

Masaki, still apparently flustered over Kieran’s and Livia’s displays of affection - it makes her wonder what their relationship was before the simulation, but she pushes the thought away - comes closer and speaks earnestly. “Alice. Devon.” Livia and Kieran flinch. “I know those names sound strange to you now, but we’ve prepared for this. Dr. Ebana and Professor Chandra have prepared for this. Your memories _will_ come back. Trust me on this.”

They place a comforting hand on Livia’s shoulder. “You know me. We’re best friends, right?”

Livia nods slowly. She can’t be sure what she knows any more.

“Everything will make sense eventually,” Masaki says. “You have my word.”

\- - -

_5 months later_

Water trickles from a bronze vase, held by a statue of a woman standing over a pond. The water, bordered by soft green plants, holds koi fish in shades of orange, gold, black, and white. Wind rushes through the trees nearby, spindly and brown in their autumn shivering, leaves in similar shades as the fish skittering along the gravel path. Blooms in all colors tumble amidst the viridescent plants growing along the path, reminiscent of spring’s long-ago exhales of life.

Dr. Alice Ebana leans over the water, watching as the koi meander and bump into each other, largely oblivious to the busyness above the surface, concerned with their own troubles. Her hair, chopped to her shoulders, is barely held back by a toothy clip, and wisps fly into her face in the breeze.

It’s a Saturday in October. The sky is slate-gray, and Alice is the happiest she’s been in months.

Her sister, Jasmine, interrupts the silence with a stifled belch, and Alice gives her an amused look. Jasmine, vivacious and careless like most twenty-year-olds, grins right back as she slips the bottle of soda back into her purse.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to do that when _Devon_ gets here,” Jasmine says, singsong-y.

“You should address him as Professor Chandra,” Alice chastises.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you liking him this much,” Jasmine remarks with a chuckle. “It’s _weird_.”

Alice raises an eyebrow at her. “You’ll get used to it,” She says easily.

During the past few months, Alice ran into discrepancies like these, where her life and Livia’s differed. Livia, bottled up in a death trap for half a year, had lost Alice’s reserved nature and became more outspoken and aggressive. Dr. Ebana and Professor Chandra, with clashing personalities and strong academic opinions, never quite learned to got along, whereas Livia and Kieran certainly did.

Alice felt like her existence after the simulation became a double image - her time on the _Skeld_ superimposed itself onto her quiet life in Toronto. The first night back at her apartment, a thin layer of dust over everything, Alice wasn’t able to sleep, tossing and turning in the vast unknowingness of it all.

Slowly, but surely, everything came back to her. Jasmine and her parents visited Alice in the hospital with video albums and mementos to jostle childhood memories. Saki and Pietr Gorski spent countless hours of painstaking conversation with Alice and Devon to help them recall their years at the university. The transition from viewing Alice as a double to _becoming_ Alice was hard. But now that she has her old life back, free from the splattered steel corridors, Alice feels like all the therapy was worth it.

A figure, dressed in black, a blue scarf around his neck, appears at the end of the path. Alice catches his eye and smiles, hesitantly, still not quite sure what he means for her happiness.

Before the _Skeld_ , Alice and Professor Devon Chandra simply didn’t get along. They worked well in tandem, designing and performing psychological experiments that yielded so much valuable information that Pietr jokingly referred to them as his heirs. But Alice had no wish to speak to Devon outside of work and despised his grating bluntness and sarcasm.

Of course, everything is different now.

“Hey.” Devon’s voice is uncharacteristically gentle, as if afraid of crossing a line with a simple greeting. Alice knows how he feels; this is the first time she’s seen him since the hospital. The air between them trembles like glass about to break.

“Hello.” Alice thought she would think of Devon as Kieran, out of habit, but though the character is there, just beneath the surface, he seems a different person. He’s let his hair grow out, black and slightly curly, matching the frames of his glasses. With the scarf and overcoat, Devon looks much more like a professor than an astronaut.

“So,” Devon begins, and then they’re walking, towards the exit of the gardens, to the chrome-edged city city beyond. “Where should we go first?”

Toronto leaves room for imagination - not quite as infinitely as space, Alice thinks, but perhaps it’s better, to have a border, a stopping point. Better in sprawling, diverse confines than be send drifting into a cold eternity.

With difficulty, she brings herself back to Earth.

“There’s a bubble tea place,” Alice ventures. “Jas and I spotted it on the way here. Um…I don’t know if…do you like bubble tea?”

“Sure, I do. Who doesn’t?” Devon grins, and Alice catches it, the flit of Kieran’s sass. She tells herself to stop making comparisons. “And after that?”

“I dunno. Where do you want to go?”

“ _The Worst of Times_ is still in theaters,” Devon muses.

“Oh, yeah, I’ve heard it’s good.” Alice hesitates. “And after that?” She repeats.

“You might be sick of me by then,” Devon teases.

Alice’s gloved hand brushes against his. She pulls it away but stays close to him. He smells of vanilla, and of other things, too - detergent, coffee. “Probably not. I’ll let you know, though.”

“Good.”

His dark eyes stray ahead. Grass and gravel turn to smooth cement. They join the street, the flow of pedestrians. Cars in shades of blue, gray, and green, their solar panels gleaming, speed by.

Alice turns her face towards the sky, where the clouds hang low and heavy. Devon notices this and follows her gaze. There’s no need to speak, only walk and watch and breathe in the richness of ozone.

Rain will come upon the green planet, thick and fast, drenching soil and clothes. Alice doesn’t pick up her pace. She feels sure, somehow, that when it begins, she and Devon both will let the water fall, and continue, unhurried. There are worse things than getting soaked in the rain, and in Alice’s opinion, not many that are better. Especially if she is joined by a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started Intervals completely on a whim, and didn't really expect to write this much. This is the first time I've written something this long with completely original characters, using the game of Among Us as a jumping-off point. It's not my best work, but I hope you enjoyed it nevertheless!

**Author's Note:**

> I started this just for fun; it's not my best quality of work but I hope you enjoy it anyway!


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